Yesterday We Obeyed Kings
by dilly r
Summary: ObiWan's life changes when he meets a Jedi. Alternate Universe
1. The Streets of Coruscant

**Title:** Yesterday We Obeyed Kings  
**Part:** Chapter 1: The Streets of Coruscant  
**Rating:** T for light gore and implied violence which may be particularly upsetting to minors.  
**Characters:** Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon.  
**Summary:** Obi-Wan's life changes when he meets a Jedi.  
**Time Period:** This is an **alternate universe** story in which Obi-Wan Kenobi was never trained as a Jedi. All other changes to canon grow out of this difference. It begins about seven years before The Phantom Menace. Expanded universe canon will be used at my discretion. 

* * *

**Yesterday We Obeyed Kings**  
_by dilly r _

_"Yesterday we obeyed kings, and bent our necks before emperors. But today we kneel only to the truth." -- Khalil Gibran_

**Chapter 1 - The Streets of Coruscant**

Coruscant was a study in opposites. It had layers, dimensions, facets. It suited Qui-Gon Jinn well, though he suspected that anyone who lived there long enough would eventually turn into the city to some extent. The cantina patrons, the Jedi in their towering spires -- Qui-Gon found little difference between them. Most Jedi might not have seen it that way. Perhaps most of them stayed safe in their columned halls to avoid the truth in the streets.

Of course, Qui-Gon had never been most Jedi.

He'd never been in that particular nightclub before, but the differences between the current club and every other club were minute at best. There were faces that Qui-Gon recognized -- it was difficult for him to go anywhere without running into someone he knew on Coruscant -- but there were many new faces. He moved through the suffocating crowd with no particular destination in mind. The occasional flash of colorful light caught the apparently fashionable metal bands decorating the women's hair. He scanned the area, not through his eyes, but through the Force. There was little out of the ordinary--the typical variations between hedonism and depression--but, somewhere, an altercation was brewing. He followed his senses to it, into the belly of the nightclub. The crowd there had hollowed out a circle where two men, one human and one reptilian, stood facing each other. Qui-Gon calmly found a place for himself among the spectators.

Both men were obviously intoxicated, though the human seemed more steady. The reptilian, on the other hand, lurched forward awkwardly, swinging one of his long, heavy arms at the human. The human calmly stepped aside, his arms held up defensively. He made no move to strike. Twice more, the reptilian attempted to hit the human, and the human dodged easily. On the reptilian's final attempt, the human side-stepped again, then swung his leg around into the reptilian's knees and knocking him to the ground. The human smirked at the crowd, giving a little mock bow. He did not notice the female reptilian coming up behind him until she had hit him in the back of the head, hard, causing him to stumble forward clumsily. He landed against Qui-Gon's chest.

The young man stared up at Qui-Gon, then swung around to face the approaching female. He began to move toward her, but Qui-Gon stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Qui-Gon looked serenely at the reptilian female and waved his hand. "The boy is not worth your time."

She stopped and tilted her head, her slit eyes focused on the young human. "You are not worth my time," she snarled.

"You will take your friend home."

She straightened her neck resolutely. "I will take Pag home." She backed away and helped Pag off the floor. The crowd which had gathered to watch the fight was quickly retreating back into their smaller groups. The young man swerved around to face Qui-Gon again and narrowed his eyes up at him in an attempt to focus his vision.

"Who are you?" He shouted over the thumping music. His accent was upper, upper-middle class. Not surprising. Despite his valiant attempt at rough-and-tumble, his skin was smooth, his hair thick and soft, and his natural scent buried under some fragrant concoction which probably cost the boy's parents enough to feed a small family for a week.

"I am Qui-Gon Jinn," he answered.

The boy looked toward the reptilians, who were making their way out, then back to at Qui-Gon. "Why'd you do that?"

"She had a blaster."

He raised an eyebrow, a dramatic expression with his features. "Don't Jedi have better things to do?"

Qui-Gon's lips twitched. "Possibly." Then, he looked up, away from the boy, toward the man approaching them. He was tall, though shorter than Qui-Gon, and his black hair was slicked back with some kind of substance. He grabbed the boys arm and twisted him around to face him.

"Obi-Wan, what have I told you about--"

Obi-Wan held up his hands in retreat. "I'm sorry, Mika. He wanted to fight. What was I going to do?"

Mika curled his lips into a laugh, his eyes flicking up to look Qui-Gon over. "That's all right, my friend," he said through his teeth. "Just try to wait at least a week before the next one. Father doesn't want his customers distracted from their drinks too long."

"You may find yourself with less trouble," Qui-Gon said, "if you do not allow blasters on your premises."

Mika's smile faded. He kept his eyes on Obi-Wan. "You?"

"No," Obi-Wan answered immediately. "He said Pag's girl had one. Ask him."

"We do our best to keep weapons out of our establishment, Jedi," Mika said. His teeth glinted in the neon light. "But we can only keep our sensors up to date, which is about three steps behind black market weapons manufacturers. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Obi-Wan watched Mika drift through the crowd toward a back room. "So, can I buy you a drink for saving my life, Mr. Jedi?"

"Seems a fair trade," Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan made his way to the bar, and Qui-Gon followed. The boy moved easily through the crowd, smiling a greeting to someone who passed him. Qui-Gon sat at the bar and watched Obi-Wan order for him. The bartender giggled and flirted with Obi-Wan, but Obi-Wan seemed either oblivious or accustomed to her overtures.

"So, do Jedi spend a lot of time in derg-hole nightclubs?"

"I suspect that if we did, you would have run into a few of us by now," Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan laughed. "True." The bartender gave them their drinks, and Obi-Wan immediately took a sip from his. "It's good. Shouldn't be too harsh if you aren't used to drinking."

Qui-Gon picked up the glass, but didn't drink from it. "I suppose you have already had quite a few of them then."

"No, the gross hard stuff got me here. This is to sober me back up," he said, grinning.

"Right." Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan drink for a long, quiet moment. "You know the owner here?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "Sure. I used to come here when me and Mika were kids. His dad is great. We go way back."

"You and Mika were childhood friends?" Qui-Gon set the glass back down. Obi-Wan didn't seem to notice that he hadn't yet taken a drink.

"Yeah, he's not bad. There are whispers that he's got other things going on. He comes off as kind of..." Obi-Wan made a vague gesture. "But he's great."

Qui-Gon nodded slowly.

"We're not the best of friends anymore. He has another crowd."

"That must be difficult," Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Not really. Our friendship was doomed to fail as soon as he started wanting to do something with his life. You know how it is."

"Still, I would imagine that it is uncomfortable when his new friends come here."

"His dad doesn't like them," Obi-Wan said. "They go to some place in Askarti. I went there once, but it wasn't really my thing. It's, like, underground, so it's constantly cold."

Qui-Gon was quiet for a moment, then stood. "I'm afraid I must take my leave of you. It was good to meet you."

"Same."

Qui-Gon moved through the crowd toward the exit. He looked back and found Obi-Wan's eyes on him. Obi-Wan grinned and reached for Qui-Gon's untouched drink.

When Qui-Gon stepped out into the streets again, the Dark Woman joined him. She looked up at him, waiting for his report. All business, as usual.

"Do you know of an underground club in Askarti?" Qui-Gon asked.

The Dark Woman shook her head. "We should be able to find out quickly enough. Your ability to get information out of these... people will never cease to amaze me, Qui-Gon."

"We should hurry," Qui-Gon said, and he got into their speeder.

* * *

_Obi-Wan smells something. Fire? It sears his lungs, makes him want to gag, but he can't. He reaches forward into the darkness. Something there is wet, so he jerks his hand back. It is stained red. He stares down at it and, slowly, the darkness surrounding him is drowned out by a blinding light._

"Wake up, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, and turned away from the unbearable sunlight. His mother shook his shoulder gently.

"Wake up, honey. Remember, the Berrans are coming by for brunch and your father wants you presentable."

"I don't feel well," He muttered.

She sighed. "I wouldn't imagine so."

Obi-Wan rolled onto his back again and looked up at her. She was always prettiest in the mornings, when she wore white. As the day progressed, she changed her clothes as was customary on her home world, but he thought she looked best in white. "Don't worry, Mom. I don't need a lecture. I'll be ready."

"I wish you wouldn't stay out so late." The deep line of worry between her eyebrows was more visible than usual.

"I know."

She brushed his hair back from his forehead. "Promise me that you'll get out of bed if I leave the room, Obi-Wan."

"Promise," he said, half grinning.

When she left, he pulled his pillow out from under his head and put it over his face. His head was killing him. He groaned into the pillow, trying to will himself to sit up. If he just closed his eyes for a moment...

_Is it fire, or is it some kind of chemical? Fire wouldn't get so deep into him. Or maybe it would. He's never had the opportunity to breathe it in before. He starts to reach forward again, but remembers--_

"Obi-Wan!" The pillow was torn away from his face, and the light poured over him again. "It's been an hour. They'll be here soon, so you don't have time for a shower. Just... try to clean yourself up."

"Sorry." He rubbed at his eyes.

"_Now,_ Obi-Wan," she said. "This is important."

"Can't Eurig and Owen suck up enough for all of us?"

She pressed her lips into a thin line. "I'm not having this out again."

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry." He pushed himself up into a sitting position. His skin felt too tight around his skull, but after a moment, he was able to push away the pain. It was his talent.

"Wash up," she said. "You need to be downstairs in thirty minutes. _Thirty._"

"I promise."

She sighed and headed for his closet. "Don't promise me when it doesn't mean anything, Obi-Wan."

Without a word -- he knew it was too late for them -- he went to the adjoining bathroom. He splashed water onto his face, then looked up into the mirror. His reflection peered back at him with black rimmed eyes. He stripped off the clothing he'd fallen asleep in the night before and hung them on the towel rack. With a damp sponge and some soap, he wet his skin, scrubbing out as much of the street grime and smoke as he could manage. He had no time to properly wash his hair, so he ran a wet comb through it until it was tamed enough for company. Mouthwash and face gel was good enough to hide the last evidence of the previous night. He used to use it to keep his parents from asking questions when he was younger, but now that he was nearly nineteen and a man, he didn't bother.

When he came out into his room again, his mother was gone, but she had left an outfit laying on his trunk. He frowned. A green shirt, his least favorite, was sitting on top of the pile. Of course, his mother knew that he hated the shirt, but she insisted that it brought out the color of his eyes. He had some making up to do, so he put it on, along with the stiff-legged slacks she'd paired with the shirt and headed downstairs feeling vaguely human.

His mother and father were already on the enclosed veranda preparing the table, and his brother Owen was in the living room with a book. Owen was not as good looking as Obi-Wan, and he was a great deal more reliable. He was only two years older than Obi-Wan and he had already been working for their father for four years. Owen glanced up at Obi-Wan while Obi-Wan lingered by the veranda doors, watching his mother lay out the silverware.

"I'm surprised to see you up."

Owen had seen him come in earlier that morning, when he was getting breakfast. He'd always gotten out of bed at ridiculously early. "Eurig would've thrown a fit if I missed another one of these."

"Calling him by his given name instead of Father does not make you more grown up, Obi-Wan. I hope you know that."

"Being condescending doesn't make you grown up, Owen. Hope you know that," Obi-Wan shot back.

"Right." Owen closed his book with a world-weary sign. "Stop lurking and go out there. Mother told me to let her know as soon as you came out, so that you wouldn't sneak out. Again."

"I only did that one time. Am I allowed to get a glass of water first?"

Owen stood. "No. Come on."

Obi-Wan opened the door for Owen, then followed him out to the table. Their mother smiled at them, and their father did not look away from the HoloNet News. Obi-Wan pulled back one of the chairs and slumped into it. The mid-morning sun burned his eyes.

His mother pulled his hair back off of his shoulders and combed it with her fingers. "You need to get a haircut soon, sweetie. It's getting long."

"I like my hair," Obi-Wan muttered. He tilted his head back to look up at her. "Could I have some water? Owen wouldn't let me get it."

"If you sit up straight."

Obi-Wan pushed against the edge of the table to right himself. She rubbed his shoulder, then left the veranda. Owen and their father were already rambling on about something on the news, so Obi-Wan blocked their voices out. Before long, his father's boss arrived with his annoying wife and doubly annoying daughter. Berran was a relatively big name on Coruscant, and since he'd hired Obi-Wan's father, the Kenobis had moved to a better house in a better sector full of better establishments. In exchange, the Berran's company was thrust upon the Kenobis at least once per month, though Obi-Wan was fairly certain he was the only one in his family who minded it. He was ushered into the living room by his parents and brother to listen to all of their very loud greetings. When he heard his name, he smiled and nodded.

Soon, they were all back out on the veranda with heaps of food, none of which Obi-Wan was particularly interested in eating. However, his mother stacked some onto his plate, and he stabbed at it with his fork while the others talked about the recent merger of such-and-such and so-and-so. Obi-Wan simply did his best not to become physically ill at the smell of food.

"Obi-Wan?"

He jerked his head up. Mr. Berran. Mr. Berran was speaking to him. Wonderful. "What?"

"How old are you now, son?"

"Eighteen," Obi-Wan answered through his teeth, trying to ignore the bit of egg clinging to the corner of Mr. Berran's mouth.

Berran laughed as if Obi-Wan had said something funny. "So, when will I be seeing you around the office?"

Obi-Wan stared forward, trying to think of a reasonably socially adjusted thing to say. The only thing coming to mind was _never, if I can help it,_ but he was smart enough to deny that impulse.

Finally, Obi-Wan's father spoke up. "Obi-Wan isn't quite as ambitious as his brother."

"Is that the case?" Berran said. He had not taken his eyes off of Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan shrugged.

"Well, what do you want to do with your life, then?" Berran asked. When Obi-Wan didn't speak immediately, he said, "Come on, boy. What do you want to do with your life?"

"Enjoy it," Obi-Wan answered.

It was quiet for a long few moments, except for the sound of silverware scraping plates. Then, Berran laughed again. "Guess you're right about your boy, Kenobi."

Obi-Wan looked down at his plate, then to his mother. "May I be excused for a minute?"

She furrowed her brow.

"I need to go to the bathroom, okay?" he snapped defensively.

Reluctantly, she nodded. Obi-Wan was on his feet and in the house quickly. He ran upstairs to his room and changed out of that horrible shirt and those ugly pants into real clothes. He was gone before anyone came to look for him.

* * *

A crowd was growing outside of a nondescript stairwell in the Askarti sector. Two Jedi were still there, clearing out what could be used for evidence in the future. The three they had come for were already gone; one, a bounty hunter, waiting to be sent back to his home planet where he committed his first documented crime, and the other two local criminals involved with interplanetary smuggling. Qui-Gon stood just inside the circle of spectators, making sure none of them made a move to enter the club.

The Dark Woman emerged glowering at a girl who stared up at her. She approached Qui-Gon, and he knew by the look on her face that the news was not good.

"You didn't find anything," Qui-Gon said. It wasn't a question.

"Is there a particular reason you're so concerned about this Rissyn?"

"The information came from a friend of his."

The Dark Woman quirked an eyebrow. "There is no evidence that the boy is dangerous. He seems to be nothing more than the spoiled child. Did you trick this friend into saying it?"

Qui-Gon shook his head.

"Then why are you concerning yourself? We've gone through everything necessary on this ridiculous mission. Let us return to the Temple."

She did not leave it up for debate; she turned and walked away from him, the crowd parting away from them as they passed. Qui-Gon sensed something wrong, something he couldn't quite define. There was a time -- which seemed longer ago than it was -- when he would have followed the feeling, but his empathy had not served him well.

Qui-Gon followed behind the Dark Woman, his attention above the street at the scrolling business news on the holoboard. He cared very little for the happenings of the business world on most occasions; a possessionless Jedi had little need for it, but something--

He reached forward and put his hand on the Dark Lady's shoulder, stopping her. "Something is wrong. We need to get back to the temple. _Now._"

* * *

The nightclub wasn't open yet--lunch wasn't even over--but Mika's dad's people knew Obi-Wan by sight. The girl who was there early to clean up from the night before even served him the two drinks which had taken the edge off of his headache. She stood near him, disinfecting the same patch of bar for a long time. He didn't look up at her, except when she handed him the first and second drinks, so she eventually wandered away. Obi-Wan wanted to be alone. At some point, a buzzing neon hologram flicked on, reflecting off of the metallic face of the bar, and Obi-Wan realized it was almost opening time. He dropped some credits by his glass and stood.

A strong hand clapped down on his forearm and pulled him back. His muscles tensed automatically, but he forced himself to relax. He knew who it was.

"Mika," he said, before turning to face his friend.

Mika narrowed his lips in a grin. "Going already? We're about to open."

"That's the point." Obi-Wan managed a crooked smile. "Not in the mood for company, really. I was just going to take a walk somewhere were people don't know me?"

"Rough night?"

"Rough day."

"Ah." Mika focused his eyes on something over and beyond Obi-Wan's right shoulder. "I'd think they would blur together for you. It looked like you'd been drinking quite a bit last night."

"A little bit, yeah." Obi-Wan smoothed his hair down. He remembered the highlights from the night before. A girl flirting with him so hard she was practically in his lap, Pag arguing with him, Pag starting a fight... "Sorry about the fight, but you know Pag."

"Yes, I do." Mika quirked an eyebrow. "And who was your friend?"

"Um. Sheela, Shilly... 'sh' something. You know me and names."

Mika was sort of smiling, but there was something more in the expression that Obi-Wan couldn't quite read.

"Really," Obi-Wan said. "I'm sorry about the fight. It won't happen again, I swear."

"Obi-Wan." Mika leaned close to him and spoke quietly. "You should go home.

Obi-Wan frowned. He tried to ignore the nagging feeling that something was seriously wrong. "My parents are driving me crazy. I just need to walk it off before I go back."

"Yon should go home," Mika repeated.

Obi-Wan's skin prickled, and he took a step away from Mika. "Okay. I will. I'll see you around, Mika."

Mika's lips curled into a smile.

Obi-Wan backed away a few steps with a smile plastered on, then turned and left the nightclub. In the street outside, the afternoon light and the shadows it cast were stark in contrast; he couldn't make his eyes focus on anything. Someone ran into his shoulder, hard, and cursed at him in a language he didn't understand. He stammered an apology as he finally found a cab stop. He pressed the button to hail one of the cabs down.

Once he'd been taken home, he punched in the security code and entered the house. Someone would see that the landing door had been opened and would be up soon to yell at him about lunch when all he wanted to do was sleep. The upstairs console was in the hall, next to his parents' room. He'd learned long ago how to hide recent door activity. He moved his hand up toward the alphanumeric pad, then stopped.

The front door downstairs was open. The light next to the alert was red, so it had to have been open for an hour at least.

Mom's droid usually got to an open door after ten minutes.

Obi-Wan let his hand fall back to his side.

His mother would be in the kitchen now, preparing dinner with her droid. His mother liked pretty extravagant meals, and she worked on them all day some days. Maybe they'd gotten busy. Maybe they hadn't noticed the door. He took a deep breath and headed down stairs, going two stairs at a time Owen's book lay open on the couch. No one was there.

"Hello?" Obi-Wan called. "I'm sorry about the brunch and everything. I'll make it up." He glanced out the window at the veranda. He could only see half the table from where he was, but the plates and food were still out. He paused, then he opened the door. Mom's droid was in the corner, against the railing. Its arms had been pulled out, and its body was deactivated. He ran and knelt in front of it. The head was in good enough working order, he just had to flip a switch to turn it back on. The eyes lit, and it began to chatter. It sounded like Basic, but it didn't make sense like Basic.

Obi-Wan cuffed it in the side of its head. "Shut up. Tell me what happened."

"They tore off-off-off my arms," it stuttered. "Where are-are my arms?"

Obi-Wan's skin was cold. He hit the droid in the chest. "Shut _up._ Where are they? Where are my parents? Where is Owen?"

"They took them to the kitchen--"

Obi-Wan turned the droid off again, and he was on his feet. Through the living room, into the dining room. There was a scratch on the imported hardwood floor and another one in the molding along the floor. He stopped. Three of the chairs were missing. He rested his hand on the cold surface of the table. His mother liked open spaces, they reminded her of her home planet, so there was no doors between most of the rooms, only doorways. From the table, he could see part of the counter and one door of the pantry. He took a slow, long breath.

If the men were still there, Obi-Wan would have no defense.

He began to walk. Slowly, he could see more of the counter, more of the pantry. The preserver and the processor. A chair leg. A chair back. An arm. Wrists tied back with some black cabling. He stopped again. It was Owen's arm, his wrists, his hands. The fingers were stubbier than their mother's and more slender than their father's, and he could see the cuff of the blue shirt Owen had been wearing rolled away from his wrists.

Time sped up again, and Obi-Wan ran. He slid to a stop on the smooth floor of the kitchen. All three of them where there: Owen, Eurig, and his mother. No one else. They were all tied to the dining room chairs with black cable. They were placed in a triangle. Owen's back was to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan could see the gaping, blackened hole in Owen's hair. What hadn't been burned out was on the floor and on the counter behind him. Obi-Wan had some on his shoes. The same thing had been done to his parents; he could tell by the black burn marks around their mouths.

Someone had tied them up, put a blaster in their mouths, and shot them. The blaster was still there, on the floor in the middle of their triangle. It didn't look very big for the hole it had made in Owen's head.

Obi-Wan backed away, bumping up against the counter. He felt like throwing up, but it was Mom's kitchen, so he didn't. He walked slowly out of the kitchen, through the dining room, down the hall, and he pressed the emergency button on the security console in the living room. He sat on the couch next to Owen's book, and waited for someone to come.

* * *

"Didn't expect to see you lot here. This is a local matter."

The young officer glared up at Qui-Gon, obviously possessive of her case. Qui-Gon had never quite understood this sort of reaction to Jedi involvement.

"This may be connected to an ongoing investigation," he said calmly. His eyes were on the structure behind her. It was a typical stacked private residence, which many of the upper-middle class Coruscanti lived in. And, yes, the last time he had considered the class structure of Coruscant, his little unwitting informant had been peering at him through the haze of intoxication. "I only want to know his name," he added.

She looked away from him, sighing. "Kenobi. They're the Kenobi family." She clenched her jaw. "If I tell you more, it could very well put the boy in further danger."

"The boy may need Jedi protection. Which is quite dedicated, let me assure you."

She was quiet for a long moment, then turned her gaze back up at him. "Obi-Wan," she answered finally. "The surviving boy's name is Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I will need to see him."

The officer motioned for Qui-Gon to follow her, and he did. She opened the glass doors and led him into a large living room, all earth tones, where Obi-Wan was sitting on a huge sectional.

"He's been there since we got here," the officer said, apparently unconcerned about whether or not Obi-Wan heard her. "We've tried to talk to him, but..."

Qui-Gon nodded. "May I have a moment with him?"

"I'm sure you're phrasing it like a question out of courtesy." She looked at the boy, then back to Qui-Gon. "I'll check in on how the boys are doing on the crime scene."

Qui-Gon waited until she was gone, then he approached Obi-Wan. The boy was clearly in shock. His skin was a shade too pale and his eyes glazed over, empty. Qui-Gon stood over him for a long moment before speaking.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said gently. When Obi-Wan did not respond, Qui-Gon reached forward and touched him on the shoulder, using the Force to carefully soothe him. Obi-Wan looked up, furrowing his brow. "Hello again."

"What?" Obi-Wan frowned. "Again?"

He didn't remember. Qui-Gon opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. For now, what the boy needed was someone he could trust. If he remembered what part the Jedi had played in this... "I am here to help find out what happened to your family and to protect you."

"Protect me," Obi-Wan repeated, as if he didn't understand the words.

"Yes. Whoever did this may want to hurt you."

Obi-Wan leaned against the back cushions of the sectional. "Okay."

"I will take you to the Temple where you will be safe while we help you decide what to do."

Obi-Wan looked into Qui-Gon's eyes. What may have been recognition flickered in his eyes, but it seemed to only be a vague recognition. Qui-Gon wondered how often the young man drank himself into amnesia. No, that was not at question now. Qui-Gon stood straight.

"I will return shortly. If there is anything you would like to bring with you, you should retrieve it."

"Okay," Obi-Wan said, nodding slowly.

Qui-Gon left him in the living room. It was easy enough to find the kitchen. These stacked homes were built very similarly, and he'd managed to find himself in a few before. The dining room table was covered with the officer's crime scene supplies. Qui-Gon glanced them over before going into the kitchen. The room easily fit five officer and two crime scene analysis droids. The woman Qui-Gon had spoken to before came over to him when he entered.

"Did you get anything out of him?"

Qui-Gon ignored her question. "Mika Rissyn did this. His father died yesterday; Look into his death and see if there are any suspicious circumstances. He sold his father's nightclub this morning, so you'll have to hurry before he makes his way off planet. I will be taking the boy with me."

She opened her mouth to speak, but Qui-Gon interrupted her.

"Work quickly. The Order will be in contact." He swept out of the room without anything further. He found Obi-Wan again, sitting on the steps this time with a green shirt clutched to his chest. Qui-Gon knelt before him, so that they were eye-level.

"Are you ready to go?"

Obi-Wan's eyes flicked up, then away. He nodded. Qui-Gon placed a hand on Obi-Wan's elbow, to lead him to his feet.

"Do you want me to hold that?" Qui-Gon asked, nodding toward the shirt.

Obi-Wan shook his head, and he began up the stairs toward the landing.


	2. The Temple Walls

**Chapter 2 - The Temple Walls**

"Where is the boy now?" 

Qui-Gon straightened his back. Standing in the center of a circle of Jedi Masters was never his idea of a good day, and he'd done so several times in the past few. "I put him in the dignitary's quarters and told him to stay there. 

Mace Windu balled his fist up in front of his mouth in a way that Qui-Gon knew meant both that he was unhappy with the situation and that he was thinking a way out of it. Qui-Gon spoke again before Windu could make his summary judgment and drag the rest of the Council along with him. 

"Our investigation led to the death of his family. I believe that it may lead to his own death if we do not--" 

"Led do you say?" Yoda interrupted. Qui-Gon remained outwardly calm, despite the twitch of irritation in his stomach. "Lead events, we do not. Act out of guilt, we must not." 

"This is not guilt," Qui-Gon said. "This is responsibility." 

"No. This is a local matter," Windu said. 

"Mika Rissyn was involved with the interplanetary smugglers you sent me after. This is likely _not_ domestic." 

Windu and Yoda exchanged looks. The rest of the Council was silent. When Count Dooku was away, they had a habit of staying out of disputes involving Qui-Gon. He could debate most of them under a table in minutes, were there a table in the Council room. 

"The boy..." Windu began. 

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," said Qui-Gon. "His name is Obi-Wan Kenobi." 

Yoda raised his ears. "Know this boy well, do you?" 

Qui-Gon was uncertain how to respond, so he remained silent. 

"We are concerned, Qui-Gon," Windu said, "That you are forming an attachment to the boy." 

"That is ridiculous," Qui-Gon said immediately. 

"This is obviously a matter for the Coruscanti authorities, not the Jedi. You are not to follow a personal agenda, Master Qui-Gon." 

Qui-Gon took a deep breath to steady himself." Master Windu, with all due respect -- and a lot of respect is due you -- you are wrong. I am not forming any sort of attachment. I care for Obi-Wan as much as I care for any other creature in the universe. And if you will not believe that, then at least attempt compassion and do not take it out on him." He paused, but not long enough for one of them to interrupt. "As for whether or not this is domestic or interplanetary, I have reason to believe it might be interplanetary and a major threat. Gunrunners cannot be taken lightly, particularly ones willing to kill entire families. If you will allow Obi-Wan to stay here while I investigate further, then we can avoid causing another death." 

The room was very quiet except for the rustly breathing of Oppo, who was sitting to Qui-Gon's left. 

Finally, Mace lifted his chin above his balled fist and spoke. "Keep your contact with the boy to a minimum while you investigate the situation. If you find any indication this should not be Jedi business, you _will_ turn him over to the proper authorities." 

"I shall do my best to resolve this as quickly as possible." Qui-Gon bowed. 

"Careful, you must be," Yoda croaked. "Some danger, I sense. Lose your way, you must not." 

Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow, but did not voice his uncertainty. "Thank you, Master Yoda," he said, and he left the Council room. 

The outer hall was flooded with mid-afternoon daylight. Qui-Gon felt his mood lift slightly when he saw the dark woman standing by one of the wall-high windows. The Coruscanti sun making her a silhouette. He joined her, his arms crossed. 

"You could have come in with me if you were just going to stand out here and wait." 

"Presumptuous of you." She adjusted her black robe. 

"Yes." Qui-Gon looked out of the window at the city below. Only the largest buildings were discernable from that great height. "Do you ever think the punishment will quite be over?" 

The Dark Woman paused, then turned to walk toward the lift. "It didn't go well." 

Qui-Gon followed. "They think I am forming an attachment." 

"Are you?" 

Qui-Gon looked at her. She raised an eyebrow in return. 

"No, he said. "I'm not." 

"Then, there are multiple levels upon which you should not concern yourself about what they think." 

Qui-Gon sighed. "Perhaps one day they will trust us again." 

"No." The Dark Woman stopped walking and turned toward him. "Never. Our punishment will never be over. Our apprentices turned to the Dark Side. There is no recovery. There is no redemption." 

"That is your way of thinking." Qui-Gon did not slow his pace. She did not follow him. 

"Where are you going?" she asked, raising her voice above her customary low growl. 

"I'm going to do my duty," he answered. 

* * *

The walls of the Temple were too tall, the stone and metal were too solid and too cold. Obi-Wan ran his hand along the icy surface as he walked. Qui-Gon had left him in a room which was clearly meant for someone more important than Obi-Wan, but it was all ninety degree corners and straight lines -- even the bed. So, after standing alone in the middle of the room for a long while, feeling horrible and uncomfortable, he'd left. 

The halls were mostly empty but for the occasional robed Jedi. The older ones didn't seem to acknowledge him at all, but some of the younger ones watched him as they passed. Obi-Wan wondered if Jedi were disallowed to grow their hair long until they reached a certain age. The young ones seemed to have the same short haircut. 

Obi-Wan wondered, also, if he should be feeling something more. But all he felt was a constant, buzzing numbness. 

He didn't like the sound of his footsteps echoing against the walls and the high ceiling. Sometimes, it sounded like someone was laughing. Maybe a child. Were Jedi brought to the Temple as children? He seemed to remember having heard that somewhere. 

"Obi-Wan." The voice startled him out of his thoughts. It took him a moment to realize that he hadn't imagined it. He looked up, to his left. Qui-Gon was standing over him, with about two feet of air between them. Sunlight was filtering in from somewhere, lighting half of his face and the tops of his shoulders. 

"You've left your quarters," Qui-Gon said. 

Obi-Wan glanced down the hall. There were two Jedi standing together under a statue very far away. The statue was nearly as tall as the walls. "I didn't like it." 

"I could find you another room to stay in." 

"No," Obi-Wan said. "I just wanted to walk." 

Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "That's fine. It would be best for you to stay on this floor, however." 

"I'll go back to the room if you want," Obi-Wan offered. 

"I would tell you if that was what I wanted." 

"Okay." Obi-Wan looked at his fingernails. They were dirty. He needed a shower. 

"How are you feeling?" 

"Great," Obi-Wan answered flatly. 

Qui-Gon's robes rustled slightly as he shifted his weight. 

"I knew it was going to happen," Obi-Wan said abruptly. 

"Oh?" 

Obi-Wan stood, frozen for a minute. Why had he said that? "I... have dreams. Sometimes they come true." There were distant footsteps somewhere to his right. "Never the good ones." 

"And you dreamt about that?" 

"Not exactly that. Something about tasting fire. Or smelling it. I'm not sure." The fabric on Qui-Gon's shoulder was coarse. His hair looked very soft against it, even with the strands of gray. Over his shoulder, a mighty column and a rail stood between them and the floor below. "I think I dreamt you too," he said. 

Qui-Gon was quiet for a moment, then, he crossed his arms. "I'm afraid I have little to tell you yet, except that I'm finding out what I can about your family's murder, and that you're safe within the Temple." 

Obi-Wan's father had changed the subject whenever he brought up the dreams too. He remembered how frustrated he would become when Eurig ignored him. His mother hadn't been so closed to the idea. She said that foresight ran in her family's blood. 

Obi-Wan looked the Jedi in the eye, though he had to tilt his head up to do so. "I'm going back to my room." 

Qui-Gon nodded. Still, Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon's eyes on his back as he walked away. 

* * *

"Master Jedi." The blue holograph flickered. The kind the officers used where habitually out of date, generally because they were second hand. 

"Have you found anything?" Qui-Gon asked. He was relieved that she had contacted him. Rissyn covered his tracks well, and he hadn't found much. 

She looked to her side, presumably to someone Qui-Gon could not see, and nodded. "Yes. The two we caught were connected to the Rissyn person you pointed us to. We might not have found them without your information." She turned her attention forward again. "Two Falleen -- one male, one female. The female apparently committed the murder, but the male was an accomplice. They'll both be confined for a long period of time. Don't think rehabilitation will do much with these two, but the bleeding hearts will want to try." 

"How was Rissyn involved?" 

She shook her head. "He's not involved. Connected. He knew the two of them, and they used his ident to purchase some parts for the weapon from one of the legitimate places. We talked to him, and he helped us find them." 

Qui-Gon frowned. "No, he _is_ involved." 

"I'm sorry, Jedi," she said. "If he's in it, there's no proof on our end. The kid's completely clean. No history. No priors. He seems to be a contributing member of society, which is more than I can say for most boys his age." 

"Seems to be, yes." Qui-Gon held up a hand before she spoke again. "No, I understand that you've done a thorough investigation. Thank you for contacting me. I appreciate it." 

"No problem," she said, and the transmission flickered out. 

Qui-Gon grimaced at the space where the hologram had been. He could almost hear Yoda and Windu's reaction already. It was officially a local matter. It was officially not an overriding concern of the Jedi. 

He raised his eyes to the clock to take note of the time. It was later in the afternoon than he'd expected. Yoda would be with the younglings. As Qui-Gon stood, he stretched his back, listening to the vertebrae realign themselves. He made his way slowly to the youngling's training room and waited outside for Yoda to finish his lesson. He could hear Yoda telling the story of the inattentive Padawan and the ch'hala tree. One of the younglings must not have been focusing. 

"Hesitation is generally a foolish pursuit." 

Qui-Gon turned his head to find that the Dark Woman had appeared next to him. There were times when he was certain she could sneak around in a room full of Jedi. "I'm getting the strong impression that you've taken to following me." 

"If I have, I am not the only one." 

"What do you mean?" Qui-Gon asked, frowning. 

"I assume, by the crease of your brow, that the investigation is not going well." 

"No," Qui-Gon said. "Rissyn had two lackeys carry out the murder. There is no evident guilty bone in his body, but I know that... There's something more." 

"Perhaps you rely on your Living Force too much." The Dark Woman narrowed her eyes. "And I suppose there is no evidence that the matter is wider in scope, as you'd hoped." 

"I hadn't hoped," Qui-Gon corrected. "I sometimes wonder if there is a point to conversation with you." Qui-Gon had meant to keep his tone light-hearted, but his mood quickly became serious. "Who is following me, An'ya?" 

She frowned at Qui-Gon's use of her long discarded former name, and she pointed over Qui-Gon's left shoulder. There was a shadow falling from behind a statue further down the hall. With his thoughts focused, he could sense Obi-Wan's presence. He turned back to the Dark Woman, any amusement gone from his face. "You should not have--" 

"Master Qui-Gon," Yoda said, snatching Qui-Gon's attention away from the Dark Woman. Behind the little Jedi Master, the Younglings were leaving the training room. They gawking at Qui-Gon and the Dark Woman with fearful eyes. Qui-Gon could only imagine what ridiculous stories the Padawans had told them. "Come to me about the boy, you have. About Obi-Wan." 

"I hope that we did not interrupt your class with our talking," Qui-Gon said. 

Yoda chuckled with a kind of glee some might call malevolent. "Oh, no. Learned her lesson, young Aayla has. Perhaps a Jedi she will become after all." 

Qui-Gon glanced toward the shadow behind the statue again. "Will you walk with me as we speak on this matter?" 

"If you keep your steps short." Yoda thumped his cane against Qui-Gon's calf. "Unnaturally tall, we are all not." 

"I will," Qui-Gon said. He nodded a farewell to the Dark Woman, but he doubted she noticed. She had busied herself with scaring the younglings with her formidable glare. 

Yoda and Qui-Gon walked down the hall in silence for several paces before Qui-Gon spoke. "I have received word that this matter with Obi-Wan is indeed local." 

"Mmm." Yoda somehow made the elongated consonant carry meaning. 

"I still feel the matter is unsettled, but I know what the Council will say." 

"Reasons for their decisions, the Council has. If accept that, you would, more calm your heart would become." 

"Whatever calmness or otherwise my heart may possess, it is not at issue." Qui-Gon tucked his hands behind his back. "If we release Obi-Wan, I fear that he will die. He is strong, but... I doubt he will be as careful as he will need to be." 

"If careful he were, then alive his family would be, hm? Is that what you think?" 

"Had he any knowledge of his friend's business, he would not have spoken to me so freely. In that instance, I think his care had little to do with the outcome. However, from what I've seen of the way he lives, he would not last long if anyone were out to get him." 

The click of Yoda's cane was loud in the empty hall. "Live his life for him, you cannot. Help him, you can, but not as a Jedi," he said in a low voice. He stopped and peered up at Qui-Gon. "If a Council meeting you need to tell you what you already know, call it, I will." 

"That isn't necessary," Qui-Gon said. He bowed slightly. "Thank you, Master Yoda." 

"Things you do not know, there are. Careful with this boy, you must be." 

Qui-Gon nodded, not entirely sure what to make of Yoda's words. However, Yoda seemed to be finished with him, so he took his leave. 

The dignitary's quarters were not far from where Qui-Gon left Yoda. He hoped Obi-Wan had retreated there, as he was not particularly in the mood for a panther chase. He pressed the chime and, when there was no answered, he opened the door. A little droid with a tray of food on top of it sat by the table. Otherwise, the room was empty. Qui-Gon approached the droid. 

"Hello. What are you doing here?" 

The droid extended an arm with a small piece of paper in its clamp. Qui-Gon took the paper and looked at it. The words were written in a careful, delicate script. 

_Thank you -- Obi-Wan Kenobi_

"Damn," Qui-Gon whispered. He stretched out his senses, but knew he would not find Obi-Wan. The boy had overheard. What effect the things he'd heard would have on him, Qui-Gon did not know. What he _did_ know was that his responsibility in this matter had not been fulfilled. 

Qui-Gon dropped the note on the table and looked down at the droid. "Tell Master Yoda that Obi-Wan has left the Temple on his own, and that I am going after him." 

* * *

It was easier to leave the temple than Obi-Wan had expected. Somehow, he'd thought that someone would try to stop him. Several Jedi saw him on his way out, but none of them seemed to think anything of it. They were Jedi. They had bigger things to concern themselves with. They saved entire planets, entire worlds. One person's tragedy couldn't mean anything to them. 

The streets were quieter than Obi-Wan was used to; he wasn't usually out of bed at this time of day. He hailed a cab. He didn't think of payment until they arrived outside the club, and was lucky to find that he still had credits from the other day. He watched the cab lift up into the air again and fly away to the next fare. Then, he turned his attention back to what was ahead of him. 

Obi-Wan was stopped at the door by a man twice as tall as he was, with a gnarled face. He didn't recognize him. 

"You're not allowed in there, Mister. Club's closed." 

"I'm here to see Mika," Obi-Wan said. 

The man snarled. "I said, you can't go in there, or do I have to prove it to you?" 

The front door slid open, and Mika stood calmly beyond the entryway. "It's all right. Obi-Wan is a friend," he said. 

The man stepped aside, keeping his eyes focused on Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan didn't move for a long time. His legs felt leaden. "Mika," he managed, quietly. 

"Come in, Obi-Wan," Mika said calmly. "You wanted to see me? I sold the club, I'm afraid, so I have no drinks to offer you. I'm going to be leaving Coruscant soon." 

Obi-Wan moved his legs finally, despite their heaviness, and entered the club. It was different than the last time he'd seen it. All of the neon ambience was gone, and only the harsh, buzzing house lights were on. The tables had been taken out. The bar was half demolished. Mika pulled over one of the bar stools that remained. 

"Would you like to sit?" 

"Did you do it, Mika?" 

Mika tilted his head, smiling calmly. "Did I do what?" 

"My parents are dead," Obi-Wan said. 

"Yes, I heard." 

Obi-Wan grabbed Mika's shirt collar and pulled him close. The calm on Mika's face wavered. "Did you do it?" Obi-Wan asked again, slowly. 

Mika looked straight into Obi-Wan's eyes. "No," he said. 

"Do you know who did?" 

Mika wet his lips and swallowed. "What did you expect? You talked to a _Jedi_. In _public_. Then, magically, they show up and bust three of the bigger gun runners on the planet. You didn't think there would be any consequences?" 

Obi-Wan let go of Mika's collar, shoved him back. He stood, silently, for a long moment. "Mika, do you remember the fight I got into when we were kids?" 

"You say that as though there were only one," Mika said. He was straightening out his shirt, tugging at the place were a button had popped loose. 

"He broke three of my ribs. Cut my face." Obi-Wan pointed to the scar, barely visible, along the right side of his jaw. 

Mika stood straight again, his dignity back in place. "You were nearly killed." 

"Yes. You said, 'Here, Obi-Wan.' And I said, 'I only fight with my fists.' And you said, 'Just in case.' Then, you gave me that little blaster. Said, I could bring it to the club, because it'd make it through the sensors. Said, you knew I wouldn't use it unless I didn't have another choice." 

Mika opened his mouth to speak. 

Obi-Wan shot him before he could get any words out. 

Mika stumbled back, staring at the black hole in his shoulder. He looked up at Obi-Wan. 

"You were my friend," Obi-Wan said, and he left. 

* * *

The house was quieter now, stranger, with even the crime scene empty. That is where Qui-Gon checked first. There was little evidence of what had happened there now. Just the chairs and some fragments left behind. He was glad not to find Obi-Wan there. Perhaps one day, it would be healthy for Obi-Wan to visit that place, but Qui-Gon suspected that day was far away. 

Qui-Gon walked through the living room, up the stairs. He could sense Obi-Wan's presence more strongly then. He closed his eyes for a moment, let the Force guide him. The door closest to the stairs felt right, so he opened it. 

It was a large room, almost as large as the living room downstairs. A huge window looked out onto the city and, beneath it, a large, round bed spread out, taking up a good amount of the floor space. In the middle of the bed, Obi-Wan lay on his side, curled up, with a small blaster next to him. Qui-Gon waited until Obi-Wan broke his blank stare to look up at him. 

"Obi-Wan, why--" 

"I didn't kill him," Obi-Wan blurted. Then, he pressed his lips together, as if he hadn't wanted the words to escape. 

Qui-Gon moved closer to the bed slowly. Obi-Wan watched him, but showed no signs of protest, so Qui-Gon sat down on the edge. The mattress was very soft, apparently stuffed with nothing more than feathers; it gave considerably under his weight. 

Obi-Wan spoke again, more quietly this time. "I was going to go there, and I was going to kill him, but I couldn't. I was following you, and I heard what you said. I didn't understand why he did it." 

"You should have stayed at the Temple," Qui-Gon said. 

"I remember," Obi-Wan said. His fingers were curling around the blaster. "He said I'd been talking to a Jedi, and now I remember." 

Obi-Wan pushed himself up into a sitting position, resting the blaster in his lap. Qui-Gon watched him. 

"I remember I thought you were dashing. I've always been kind of fascinated by Jedi, but I guess you get that a lot, right? I was kind of thinking about trying to get you to a room or something. I guess I was pretty drunk, but I never realize it and I hardly show it." He picked up the blaster. "I guess this is probably illegal." And he extended it to Qui-Gon, offering it to him. 

Qui-Gon took it, glad to have it out of the unstable boy's hands. "I had no idea that anything like this would happen--none of the Jedi did--or I would not have put you in that position." 

"What I don't remember," Obi-Wan continued, as if Qui-Gon hadn't spoken. "Is what I actually said. I remember your hands and what you were wearing and how you weren't drinking anything. And I was wondering if that was some kind of uptight Jedi thing, and you were pretending to drink to be polite. I remember my voice being a little hoarse from yelling over the music, and I remember thinking that I was talking too much." His voice broke off, and he swallowed. "But I don't remember _anything I said_. It killed my whole fucking family, and I don't remember it." 

Qui-Gon silently disabled the blaster. It was illegal, and it would be destroyed later. 

The Council -- and it galled him to admit it to himself -- had been right. To some extent, anyway. He was not attached, but there was something acidic eating away at his gut, and he could only imagine that it was guilt. He tried to shift his weight to drive the feeling away, as if it were a physical ailment, but the desire for relief made the uncomfortable feeling flourish. 

"I am at your service," he said. When he glanced up, he saw that Obi-Wan was furrowing his brow at him. "Nothing I could do would be enough. But if there is anything I can do to help you begin your life anew... I am at your service." 

Obi-Wan continued to stare at him. Qui-Gon could not discern what Obi-Wan's expression meant. It could be angry or confused or simply calm and thoughtful. He remained quiet, in the hope the last was true or, at least, dominant. 

Finally, Obi-Wan spoke. "My father bought a plot. In one of those high-rise graveyard things. I want to get them out of the morgue and put them to rest in the morning. And then I want to get off of Coruscant and go somewhere where I can be different." Obi-Wan wet his lips. "Can you do that?" 

"Of course," Qui-Gon said. "Will you come back to the Temple tonight?" 

Obi-Wan turned his head and stared out of the window at the city half above them and half below. There was the faintest hint of a smile on his face. The kind of smile that made Qui-Gon's stomach even more unsettled. 

"Yes. There's nothing for me here," Obi-Wan said. 

* * *

Qui-Gon had helped him make the arrangements. Obi-Wan had no clue how to manage these things. He hadn't even been to a funeral before. There would be people he didn't want to see, but he understood that they had a right to be there. His extended family was not close, neither in distance or in their hearts, so it was only Obi-Wan and friends of the family. 

Obi-Wan sold the house to a company who would put it on the market and he bought some things to take with him on the trip. His father had always said that it was best to keep a healthy mix of credits and valuable objects when traveling. Some races would take an object of less worth than twice as much in credits. 

He pulled on the stiff jacket he'd taken from his bother's closet. It didn't suit him, but Eurig and Owen would have called him presentable in it. They wouldn't have liked the small pendant or the ring he wore, but they had belonged to his mother's father. He needed to have something of her with him too. 

The door chimed and Obi-Wan took a deep breath. "Yes?" 

Qui-Gon entered. He wasn't wearing his customary robes. Just a tunic and breeches. "Your things will be put into the ship while we are away. Everything will be ready for our departure when we return." 

"You don't have to come with me," Obi-Wan said. 

Qui-Gon continued. "I think I know a planet that would be suitable to you. It is a Republic friendly planet, small, and with strong traditions. I know someone there who will help you settle in once you arrive." 

"Which planet?" Obi-Wan asked, straightening his collar. 

"Naboo," Qui-Gon said. "It is a... beautiful planet. I think you would thrive there." 

"Nothing like Coruscant?" 

"Nothing like Coruscant." 

Obi-Wan laughed humorlessly. "That should do, then." He sighed and turned to Qui-Gon. "Do I look... proper?" 

Qui-Gon's eyebrows pressed together for a moment. "Yes." 

"I feel like I'm wearing cardboard," he said. He attempted to bend his arms to illustrate the point, but stopped when he realized that he was wrinkling the fabric. 

"There is something I need to explain to you," Qui-Gon said. Obi-Wan looked at him, in the general direction of his eyes. It was hard to be sure, though. Qui-Gon was standing nearly the full length of the room from him, still hovering near the door. "When I help you, it will not be as a Jedi. My decision in this matter is not favored by the others, and they have agreed to allow me to do this without leaving the Order only if I do not act as a Jedi. I am accompanying you to keep you out of trouble, help you get on the right track. If anything... happens. I will not be able to fight to protect you." 

Obi-Wan couldn't help but smile. He couldn't imagine Qui-Gon needing anyone's allowance to do anything. Perhaps Qui-Gon was not the man he appeared to be, but Obi-Wan had already learned that lesson once in the time he'd known him. 

"Like I said, I didn't expect you to come at all. I definitely don't expect you to be my knight in shining armor." 

Again, the beginnings of an expression flickered over Qui-Gon's face, then disappeared. "Very well." 

"You're going to stay for the funeral, right?" 

"If you want." 

Obi-Wan nodded. "I do." He took a deep breath. "Well. Let's go." 

He walked out into the hall, and Qui-Gon followed. Obi-Wan kept his eyes forward, so that he didn't notice the height of the ceiling, the coldness of the stone walls. He could feel Qui-Gon next to him, even though he didn't see him, even peripherally. 

Part of him was comforted by Qui-Gon's silent presence. 


	3. The Forked Path

**Chapter 3 - The Forked Path**  
_by dilly r_

Obi-Wan Kenobi moved to Coruscant with his family when he was eight years old. His mother once told him that that when they'd been taking a cab ride, looking at different stacked house complexes, he'd begun to squeal and point. When his father asked him what was wrong, he'd said, "It's the Temple. I see the Temple!" 

Ten years later, he didn't remember that. He remembered being on the street the first time and feeling tiny because everything was so big, and he remembered being in his stark white, empty room for the first time and thinking that it was the size of their entire house back home. 

About an hour into the trip to Naboo, he also remembered that he'd been sick all the way to Coruscant, and that he'd never liked space travel. 

They were aboard one of the smaller trading vessels which made the Corellian Run from Coruscant to the Outer Rim. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon would be dropped of at Zolan, then would make the trip to Naboo from there. While the ship had plenty of storage space available for everything Obi-Wan owned along with the traders' cargo, there were only enough living quarters for the crew, and Obi-Wan was to share a room with Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon seemed unhappy about the arrangement when the captain told him, but didn't put his discomfort (nor a reason for it) into words; Obi-Wan could just tell. 

Obi-Wan had thought that he was exhausted enough to sleep the entire trip to Naboo, but every few minutes, his stomach lurched violently out of place. It was by sheer force of will that he had not yet gotten ill all over the cabin. The most comfortable position he could find was sitting on the little slab of a bed with his back against the wall and his knees hugged against his chest. 

Sometime between one lurch and another, Qui-Gon appeared at the door, arching an eyebrow when he saw Obi-Wan. "I would have expected you to be asleep." 

"I would have too," Obi-Wan waved a hand. "Motion sickness or something. I get iffy when a cabbie goes too fast too." 

"Ah." Qui-Gon stood stiffly by the door. 

"Is it a problem if I'm awake?" 

"No," Qui-Gon said slowly. "But I was planning to meditate." 

"Oh. Well. Honest, I won't bother you," Obi-Wan said, eyeing him. "And I won't bite either, even if you come in further." 

Qui-Gon's eyes crinkled, almost as if he were smiling. "I didn't expect you would." Finally, he left the door and sat on the bed, opposite of Obi-Wan's. Obi-Wan watched him turn and sit with his legs crooked and his eyes toward the wall at the foot of his bed. He didn't close his eyes or anything. He just watched the wall. 

"Are you meditating yet?" Obi-Wan asked abruptly. 

"No." 

"Why are you going to?" 

Qui-Gon turned his attention toward Obi-Wan. "A Jedi uses meditation to center himself, and clear his mind." 

"Being empty-headed is a good thing?" Obi-Wan frowned. That didn't sound very Jedi to him. 

"No, not empty-headed," Qui-Gon said patiently. "To clear your mind is to empty it if only unnecessary influences, so that your mind may be focused, not distracted." 

"Oh." Obi-Wan considered keeping his silence for a moment, but talking was keeping his mind off of the lurching. "Do you do it, like, in a special Jedi way, or doulc anyone do it?" 

Qui-Gon turned his attention back to the wall in front of him. "It depends. We are taught many meditation techniques as younglings when we are not familiar with the ways of the Force in a meaningful way. So, I suppose many of them could be done by anyone." 

"Could you teach me?" 

The humming of the ship seemed very loud. Obi-Wan wondered if Qui-Gon had heard him. 

"Yes," Qui-Gon said, finally. "I can teach you if you wish to learn." 

Obi-Wan began to nod, but his stomach objected to the movement. "I want to," he said. 

Qui-Gon stood up from his bed in one graceful movement. "It would be best if you sit across from me on the floor." 

Obi-Wan moved carefully. His limbs felt strangely light and his stomach heavy. He pushed his legs out and bent them until he had pulled himself to the edge of the bed, then he lowered himself onto the floor. Qui-Gon watched him silently, and when Obi-Wan was finally on the floor, Qui-Gon sat. 

"The best way to sit is like this, with the bottoms of your feet against one another, your back straight, and your hands resting on your knees." 

Obi-Wan did what he was told, mimicking Qui-Gon's posture. "This feels kind of, um, awkward." 

"It does at first, yes. It will be easier to breathe properly that way." Qui-Gon reached forward and pushed gently against Obi-Wan's shoulders. "Keep your chest open, ready to accept air." 

"Okay." 

"For meditation you should breathe squarely." Qui-Gon smiled at Obi-Wan's confused expression. "In for four counts, hold for four counts, out four counts, hold four counts. Understand?" 

Obi-Wan grinned. "I knew being able to count to four would come in handy someday." 

Qui-Gon raised both of his eyebrows. 

"Sorry. In, hold, out, hold. Got it." Obi-Wan tried it. Once through. Twice. Three times. He laughed out the last breath. "I feel a little dizzy." 

"Your brain is getting more oxygen than it's used to. That is normal. Keep going." 

In, hold, out, hold. He kept doing it until he didn't have to think about it anymore, until it felt natural. 

"Close your eyes," Qui-Gon said quietly. 

Obi-Wan did. 

"Picture yourself -- your body. Inside of your chest, there is a ball of light. Feel the light inside of your chest. It gives off heat, like a small star. The light is you. The body is merely a carrier. Picture your mouth opening, and you -- the light -- escaping." 

In the darkness behind his eyelids, Obi-Wan allowed Qui-Gon's voice to guide him completely. He felt nothing; he thought nothing. But he was aware in a way he hadn't been before. There was something as real as the ship and the room and the two beds flanking them. There was something between them, connecting them. Through it, Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon as though Qui-Gon were another part of himself -- a hand or leg -- but also something more than that. 

And then, the calm nothingness left him. He opened his eyes to see that Qui-Gon was standing over him. His expression was something Obi-Wan couldn't quite define, but he sensed that a large part of it was fear. 

"What did I do wrong?" Obi-Wan asked. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the weakness of his legs. "What did I do wrong?" 

Qui-Gon shook his head. "Nothing." The word had rushed out of his mouth. "I must... I realized that there is something I must do." 

"But--" 

Qui-Gon turned away from him so quickly that his robes made a snapping sound, and he left the cabin. Obi-Wan watched the door slide shut behind him. He stood there, trying to make sense out of what had just happened. Then, he gasped. He realized he had forgotten to breathe. 

* * *

The captain had permitted Qui-Gon to use of the ship's holographic projector, which was located in the main cargo bay. He stood before it with his arms crossed, waiting for the blue hologram of Yoda to appear. 

Qui-Gon had felt it. It should have been immediately obvious, but he'd ignored the feeling. Why? 

"Run into trouble, have you, Master Qui-Gon?" 

"In a sense," Qui-Gon drew in a breath. "Why did you not tell me?" 

Yoda stared forward, as if trying to study Qui-Gon through the vast distance between them. "If unclouded your judgment had been, already known, you would have." 

Qui-Gon closed his eyes to calm his feelings. Yoda was right. His judgment had been clouded. But that did not explain everything. "This is about Xanatos, isn't it?" 

"No!" Yoda barked. He pointed one of his tiny fingers at Qui-Gon. "This is about Obi-Wan. Confuse the two, you must not." 

"And that is what you feared I would do," Qui-Gon said. 

"Make secret your disagreement with the Code's age restrictions, you have not. Approached at the proper time, Obi-Wan's father was. Allow his son to be trained, he did not," Yoda said, with some finality in his tone. 

"He is strong with the Force." 

Yoda nodded, his ears low. "Unfortunate it is that he is untrained, but untrained he will remain." 

"I do not plan to attempt it," Qui-Gon said. 

"Plans; not always followed, are they. Tempted, you are." 

"Of course." Qui-Gon said, unable to keep the words from coming out. He _was_ tempted. Obi-Wan had been able to connect with him through the Force so easily. He would have made an exceptional student. "However, in his case, I believe he's experienced too much attachment." But, as Yoda had pointed out, Obi-Wan was not Xanatos. Obi-Wan had lost his family and the attachments to them. 

"Given you this chance, the Council has," Yoda said deliberately. "Take him to his destination, then return. That is your task." 

"I know my task," Qui-Gon said. "And I know this is a test, not only a task or a chance." 

"Confidence, I have always had in you, Qui-Gon. Wish you would take another Padawan, I do. But not this way." 

"Good day, Master Yoda." Qui-Gon ended the transmission. He stood still, listening to the sounds of the ship, and he decided that he would find a quiet place in the cargo bay to meditate. 

* * *

If Qui-Gon had returned to their quarters in the last few days, he had done so when Obi-Wan was asleep. Obi-Wan doubted, however, that he had. The sheets on the bed across from him remained unmoved, the folds and bunches all in the same places. 

Obi-Wan had stayed in the room, like a good boy. And he hated every minute. He wasn't used to sitting around all the time. Usually, he spent most of his waking hours in various Coruscanti establishments with various Coruscanti people. There was light and fun and talk and drink. Obi-Wan would settle for the last one, to accompany the dull droning of space travel, but Qui-Gon had made sure Obi-Wan brought no alcohol with him. 

He was sick of it. He left the room and the horribly uncomfortable bed and the horribly tiny bathroom and ventured out into the hallway. 

The ship seemed larger than it had the first time Obi-Wan had gone through it to his quarters. The ceilings were just high enough for taller humanoids, and the halls just wide enough for two. Everything was white. It reminded him of home. 

One of the ship's crewman turned into the hall, his head down looking at a datapad, and would have run into Obi-Wan if Obi-Wan hadn't quickly side-stepped him. Obi-Wan's irritation passed, and he followed after the crewman. 

"Hey, wait. Excuse me, um..." The crewman finally stopped and looked at him. Obi-Wan smiled up at him charmingly. "Hello. I'm looking for my, uh, friend. The Jedi?" 

"He's been staying in cargo bay one." 

The crewman began to walk away again, but Obi-Wan caught up. "Cargo bay one?" 

He sighed impatiently and pointed. "Turn left and keep going until you see big double doors. That's it. And don't mess around in there too long, all right? It's bad enough having one of you in there. " 

"Yes." Obi-Wan was vaguely certain his smile was being undermined by the terror in his eyes. "Thank you. For the, um. Help." He edged away down the hall, happy enough to be away from the crewman. 

Obi-Wan quickly found the doors he'd been pointed toward. He stood before them for a moment. They were gray, as he'd been told, and there was a giant red '1' painted onto one of them. Some of the paint was starting to chip. He pressed on a panel and the doors slid apart. 

The bay was big and dark. Crates were stacked everywhere with things written all of them in different languages, some with identification dangling from them. 

He could sense Qui-Gon as well as he could see the crates and smell the stuffy air. It was strange, sensing someone in that way. Obi-Wan had never been so aware of anyone else in his life. 

He picked his way through the maze of cargo until he found Qui-Gon, who was sitting cross legged with his back against the wall. Obi-Wan could tell Qui-Gon was meditating, so he silently sat across from him and watched. 

It was not long before Qui-Gon's eyes opened. "Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's back had already been straight, but now it seemed rigid. 

"I was getting bored," Obi-Wan said. "And someone told me you were staying here instead." 

"Yes." 

Obi-Wan watched him. He'd been over their last meeting several times in his head. "I give up," he said. 

Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow. "What?" 

"I can't figure this out on my own. I need you to tell me what I did so I can apologize or whatever, and I don't have to spend the rest of the trip alone." 

"Ah." Qui-Gon's brow was furrowed. "You did nothing to apologize for." 

"Then, what's wrong?" Obi-Wan asked. 

Qui-Gon drew a long breath. "I was once a teacher," he said slowly. "I was reminded of those times when I was teaching you to meditate." 

Obi-Wan frowned. "Bad memories?" 

"Good memories, turned sour by certain events." 

"Oh," Obi-Wan said, hoping it sounded as if he understood better than he actually did. "Well... you don't have to teach me anything else if you don't want to. You don't have to hide out in here." 

Though Qui-Gon's eyes seemed to be on Obi-Wan, he could tell Qui-Gon was looking beyond him. "I think it would be best if we spend as little time with each other as is possible." 

"Wow," Obi-Wan said, staring at Qui-Gon. "They don't really teach you tact in Jedi school, do they?" 

Qui-Gon blinked, and looked directly at Obi-Wan.. "No. I mean," He began haltingly. "No, that is not what I meant. It has nothing to do with your company." 

"What does it have to do with, then?" 

"Many things." Qui-Gon sighed. "A Padawan learner of mine was lost. Due to my poor training." 

Obi-Wan frowned. "He died?" 

"No. Worse, possibly. He became something other than himself. When someone trained as a Jedi becomes lost..." Qui-Gon paused, searching for the words. "He is capable of horrible things." 

A silence followed Qui-Gon's words. Obi-Wan sensed that there was something more, something frightening, in what Qui-Gon was saying. He had never heard of Jedi who were anything but good. Were they rare, or were they hidden? 

Finally, Obi-Wan was once again able to speak. "You taught him to do good things, right?" 

"Yes. I tried to." 

"So, if he did bad things, that's his choice." Obi-Wan wasn't sure he should be saying anything at all, but he had never been good at keeping his mouth shut. "You teach somebody, but they're their own person." 

Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes at Obi-Wan and for a moment, Obi-Wan was sure that he had, in fact, gone too far. But he would not retract his words. He met Qui-Gon's focus straight on. Qui-Gon was the one to look away. "You do not understand." 

"That's a cop-out," Obi-Wan snapped. He leaned forward, placing his hands on Qui-Gon's knees to get his attention. "Even if it was all your fault and you're a big bad person, don't take it out on me. I don't _want_ to be alone right now." 

Qui-Gon did not say anything. Obi-Wan could feel himself flush with anger. He leaned his weight further on Qui-Gon's knees, leaned closer to Qui-Gon's face. 

"I'm leaving the only home I remember. I'm leaving my family behind in boxes. I'm going to a planet I've never been to, possibly for the rest of my life. I'm going to be around a bunch of people I don't know who don't know me, and I don't want to be alone right now if I can help it, so." Obi-Wan paused, until the words burst out. "Pay attention to me!" 

Qui-Gon did, at last, look at him then. He had to pull his head back slightly. Otherwise, Obi-Wan was close enough that their noses would have touched. "You sound like a child." 

"Do I?" Obi-Wan asked. 

Qui-Gon began to speak, but Obi-Wan didn't let him. He pressed his mouth over Qui-Gon's and pushed his tongue in. Qui-Gon made a startled sound in the back of his throat, but he didn't react any more than that. Not at all. He simply held his mouth open and let Obi-Wan kiss him. Obi-Wan pulled back, just enough so that their lips were no longer touching. His anger was quickly turning to embarrassment. 

"You do not understand," Qui-Gon repeated, in a quiet voice. 

"You're right," Obi-Wan said. "I don't understand. I don't understand why I like you. I don't understand why you came into my life and ruined it, and I still like you. I don't understand why you treat me like I'm nobody--like no one else has ever treated me--and I still fucking like you." 

Qui-Gon spoke slowly, as if he was speaking to a youngling. "A Jedi does not have attachments." 

"Attachments?" Obi-Wan laughed loudly, suddenly. "I'm going to be living on Naboo, and you're going back to Coruscant. In a few days, I'll probably never see you again. What the hell do you think this has to do with attachments?" 

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to speak, but paused a moment before beginning. "You are at a vulnerable stage, and you are very young." 

"It's not like I haven't had sex before. A lot of sex before." 

"What makes you think that I return your interest?" Qui-Gon asked. 

"For one thing, because it took you so long to ask me that. And..." Obi-Wan shifted his weight, and moved his hand from Qui-Gon's knee to between his legs. Qui-Gon's eyes widened. Obi-Wan curled his fingers carefully. "And that." 

Qui-Gon caught Obi-Wan's wrist and pulled it up, off of him. "This is inappropriate." 

"_Why?_" 

"_Because,_" Qui-Gon returned, in a tone harsh enough to startle Obi-Wan. "I am in a position in which it isn't right. You've lost the life you knew in a very short amount of time. And--" 

"And I wanted you before that," Obi-Wan pulled his hand back, and Qui-Gon let him go. He sat back, his weight off of Qui-Gon's knee. "I wanted you when I first saw you. Lust at first sight and all of that." 

Qui-Gon nostrils flared as he drew a breath. "Did you consider, Obi-Wan, that I am concerned about my attachment, not yours." 

Obi-Wan blinked. Out of the many, many things Qui-Gon could have said at that moment, Obi-Wan had not been expecting that particular sentence. Finally, he managed to ask, "What do you mean?" 

"I mean that, sex being inconsequential as far as I'm concerned, you remind me of something that I gave up. You remind me of a failure. You cannot understand the connection between a Jedi and his Padawan, but you do know what it is to lose someone you had a strong connection with." Qui-Gon paused. Obi-Wan could see his jaw muscles clench. "I want to replace him. I want my success to prove that it was his failure and not mine. And I can't do that. Especially not with you." 

"Especially," Obi-Wan echoed. "Sex being inconsequential." He nodded vaguely and looked away from Qui-Gon. Maybe he'd been right. Maybe Obi-Wan did not understand. "Well, I'm not him, and I'm not one of you. And, hey, I wish I cared more about your issues, but I'm having my own. So, could you just come back to our cabin? I won't bother you. I won't say anything to you. And I won't try anymore clumsy seductions for you to turn down. I just don't want to be alone in there." 

Obi-Wan could feel his gaze on the side of his face. Qui-Gon spoke in a calm, neutral tone. "Sometimes, when a person who is untrained in the Force has a powerful sensitivity to it, he will have prophetic dreams. In a fight, he will be able to anticipate moves before they happen. He will seem to have uncanny reflexes." 

Slowly, Obi-Wan turned his head toward Qui-Gon. The words barely made sense, but the little sense they did make made it hard to breathe. 

"When a child is found to be Force sensitive, the consent of the parents is needed to take the child to the Temple and raise him as a Jedi. The Jedi Council did not want me to work so closely with you because you are one of the children whose parents did not want him trained. You are very strong with the Force, Obi-Wan. Had you been trained, I suspect you would have eventually been able to rival my Master. If not _his_." 

"I... could be a Jedi?" Obi-Wan's tongue felt strange in his mouth, like it didn't belong there. 

"Could have been. It is too late now, and you are too old." 

"So," Obi-Wan began. "You want to train me. That's why..." 

Qui-Gon furrowed his brow, but didn't say anything. 

Obi-Wan got to his feet. It felt wrong to look down on Qui-Gon, so he didn't look at all. "I'm going back to my quarters. I guess I'll see you when we reach Zolan." 

Obi-Wan left the cargo bay. Qui-Gon didn't stop him. 

* * *

Obi-Wan was still in his quarters when they reached Druckenwell, and Qui-Gon was glad. The boy was young and short-sighted. With his personality, he would quickly make friends on Naboo. Being alone on the trip there would not hurt him. 

The captain informed Qui-Gon that they would be finished moving cargo in a few standard hours, so he took the opportunity to visit an old friend. The dock on Druckenwell was swarming with all species of people and flanked by shops with various levels of respectability and legality. The place Qui-Gon was headed for was a mid-level place of business in both respects. 

It was as he'd remembered it the last time he had come to Druckenwell. The sign was still devoid of half it's letters and the old-fashioned and misshapen door was still mis-hung on its hinges. Those hinges let out a world-weary groan when Qui-Gon pushed the door open. 

A humanoid droid sped toward him as he entered. "Hello, sir. What can I help you--" 

"Tell Lawres that Qui-Gon Jinn is here." 

"One moment, sir." It rolled around the counter (nearly tipping off of its wheels as it did so) and disappeared int a back room. In moments, a skeletal woman with orange-tinted skin appeared, rubbing the length of a blaster with a rag. 

"Qui-Gon," she said, revealing pointed, yellow teeth. "You haven't made it to Druckenwell in a while." 

"No, I haven't." 

She smirked. "I assume you're not here for my wares, Master Jedi." 

"I am not here as a Jedi. I am here for a friend." He walked further into the shop. The walls were lined with weapons, mostly long-range but there were also what would be called antiques these days -- nothing but collectors items. 

Lawres set the blaster down on her counter and draped the rag on her shoulder. "Go on." 

"Do you know a Mika Rissyn?" 

Her eyes widened. "Do you really like this friend?" 

"I owe him," Qui-Gon said. 

She sighed, muttering something about "Jedi" and "crazy" under her breath. She waved her hand to beckon him closer. "Look," she said, once he was close enough to hear her whisper. "This Mika isn't small business. He's a new kid, but he's got friends too. There's more to it than guns. Don't ask me what, 'cause I don't know. If you hadn't saved my ass on more than one occasion, I wouldn't even feel safe to talk about it. Some of them are on-world, and they pull some heavy weight." 

Qui-Gon frowned deeply. It would not be over as easily as he'd hoped, it seemed. "I trust that you will keep your silence on this matter." 

"I will, Qui-Gon, but you'd do better to wash your hands of this one, if you ask me." 

"I didn't," Qui-Gon said with a tight smile. "Thank you." 

Lawres grinned back. "You sure you don't want to buy anything?" 

There would be some wisdom in arming Obi-Wan, but after finding him on his bed after shooting Mika... he would rather not make the boy into a killer. "I'm sure," he said. "But I would give you some credits for a bit more information on what I should expect out of these friends of Mika's." 

* * *

The ship shook, waking Obi-Wan up from a dream he didn't quite remember, except that the dream had been hot and the ship was very cold. Obi-Wan turned onto his side and drew his knees up until he was laying in a fetal position. 

"They must be taking off," Obi-Wan muttered to himself. He'd been muttering to himself a lot for the past few days with no one more interesting to talk to. "And if I lay here really still, I won't get sick, right? Right." 

The ship shook again. Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't remember the take-off from Coruscant or Nubia being this bad. Druckenwell must have had a stronger gravitational pull or thicker atmosphere or something. 

Another tremor. This one hard enough that Obi-Wan had to grab the edge of the bed to keep from falling. There were footsteps in the hall, hard and fast, like someone running. Maybe this wasn't take-off. 

Obi-Wan pulled himself out of bed and went to the door. He was knocked into the wall on the way. His heart was pounding as he stumbled out into the hallway. A crewman ran past him. Obi-Wan called after him, but didn't get a response. Something -- it felt more like an impact than shaking now -- threw him backwards into something solid. Something big and solid and with hands. He swerved around. 

"Qui-Gon. What's going on?" 

"The crew seem to think they are being attacked by pirates, but I suspect otherwise. Come with me." 

Qui-Gon began to run. His loping strides were so long that, by the time they stopped at the cockpit, Obi-Wan was quite out of breath. The captain, who was also the pilot, looked very relieved to see Qui-Gon. 

"You need to let these pirates know you're aboard. They're too cowardly to deal with the Jedi. I have an open--" 

"No," Qui-Gon said, squinting out of the viewscreen. "I recognize this ship. It will take more than your skill to outrun them. If you will allow me to pilot..." 

"Of course." The captain left his chair to Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon took the controls. 

"I suggest you hold onto something," Qui-Gon said quite calmly. 

Obi-Wan reached for a bar above him, but he found himself being thrown into the captain instead. The captain took Obi-Wan by his shoulders and set him down in the empty co-pilot's seat. Obi-Wan wasn't entirely sure he was thankful for the help, because from his new vantage point, he could quite clearly see the stars swirling around them, and the little ship darting in and out of view. 

"You're sure you don't want to warn them you're onboard?" the captain asked. 

"They know I'm here," Qui-Gon said. 

The captain grabbed the back of Obi-Wan's chair to steady himself as they were shaken by another impact. "You didn't warn me that there could be danger in this." 

"I apologize. I wasn't expecting trouble until Zolan." 

Obi-Wan stared at him. "You were expecting trouble in Zolan?" 

Qui-Gon didn't answer. The captain ran a hand through his hair. "I knew I should have invested in a hyperspace drive." 

"Wait, look! What's he doing?" Obi-Wan said, pointing. The ship was pulling up in front of them, with it's stern toward them. Then, it stretched out of normal space and disappeared. 

Obi-Wan smiled at Qui-Gon, but Qui-Gon's face was set in a deep frown. 

"You must have scared them off or something," Obi-Wan offered. 

Qui-Gon pulled away from the controls and stood. "No, I don't think so." 

The captain took his place again. "Do I actually need to say that you're off my ship as soon as possible? We're so off course at this point, we aren't going to make it to Rothana on time. Do you know how much money you've just cost me?" 

"Again, I apologize. I had no way of knowing we would be attacked." He leaned over Obi-Wan's chair at a star chart in on the console in front of him. "If you could leave us on Tatooine, I would be very thankful." 

The captain raised an eyebrow. "You want to go to Tatooine? That planet is controlled by the Hutts, you realize." 

"As long as you simply drop us off and commit no business there, they should not have a problem with you." 

The captain shrugged. "It's your skin. Get out of my cockpit. I'll tell you when we arrive." 

"Thank you." Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan by the arm and led him out into the hall. 

"You going to tell me what just happened?" Obi-Wan asked. 

"Rissyn has more sway in the galaxy than I'd anticipated. Our journey may have become more complicated than I'd expected. 

Obi-Wan laughed, in spite of the knot forming in his stomach. "So, new plan?" 

"No. Just a new path." He placed his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I will get you to Naboo, and I will make sure that you are safe." 

"Okay," Obi-Wan said, and he smiled thinly up at Qui-Gon. "Tatooine doesn't sound _that_ bad." 


	4. The Desert Sands

**Chapter 4 - The Desert Sands**

Obi-Wan squinted up at the painfully blue sky and watched the cargo ship fly away. Qui-Gon was rifling through the cargo bin filled with Obi-Wan's clothing and other assorted items for reasons Obi-Wan was not aware of. He, on the other hand, was sitting on the bin full of the more delicate or breakable stuff. Various things of worth he'd purchased before leaving and family busts, paintings, books. 

Soon, the ship had disappeared completely. Obi-Wan lowered his eyes to the empty horizon. 

"How far away from civilization are we again?" 

Qui-Gon smiled. "It should take us an hour to reach Mos Espa." He stood straight, and tossed a scarf to Obi-Wan. It settled on Obi-Wan's leg. Obi-Wan looked down at it, then up at Qui-Gon. "I was hoping you'd have a hat, but that will have to do. Put it on your head." 

Obi-Wan plucked the bit of fabric from his thigh. "This is not a head scarf." 

"You'll need something to protect you from the suns. You've lived on Coruscant most of your life. I doubt your skin will react well to the assault. If the wind picks up, you'll have to put it over your nose and mouth." Qui-Gon had taken off his robe and put it into the bin before closing it. 

"Did I say that Tatooine didn't sound that bad, because--" 

"Get that scarf on." Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan up to his feet by his arm. "We need to get in to the settlement before night falls." 

Obi-Wan looked at the bins unhappily. "This is going to involve dragging, isn't it?" He tied the scarf onto his head, fairly certain he'd caught at least half of his hair in the knot. 

"Yes. You can pull the lighter of the two." Qui-Gon straightened the scarf out a little, tucking down the flap that had been sticking up. 

"So, a near-exploded-to-death experience means you aren't afraid to be around me anymore?" 

Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow, then looked up at the twin suns. "Come. It's nearing sunset." 

"Avoidance. Always good." There was a handle on the side of the bin which extended and, in theory, made them easier to drag along behind you. Doubtful that the creators of these contraptions had expected they'd be used on mounds of sand layered on more sand. 

After what, by Obi-Wan's calculation, couldn't have been less than a year of trying to lug that thing about, he stopped and heaved a sigh. "Can we take a break for a minute?" 

Qui-Gon, who was several paces ahead of Obi-Wan, looked back at him. "If you insist on taking breaks, I would prefer it not be every ten minutes." 

"It's been more than ten minutes!" 

"A bit less, actually." 

Obi-Wan frowned. 

"Honestly," Qui-Gon said. "You're too young to be complaining about physical labor. Come on." 

Obi-Wan groaned as he heaved himself and his cargo into motion again. "Well, don't walk so far ahead of me. And don't be so quiet." 

"We will get sand in our mouths if we talk too much," Qui-Gon said. 

"I have sand in every conceivable part of my anatomy already, and most of them are worse than my mouth." 

Qui-Gon did slow down his pace, and Obi-Wan soon caught up with him. "What would you like to talk about?" 

"I don't know." Obi-Wan paused. "Have you been to Tatooine before?" 

"No." 

"Why not?" 

"There isn't much call for Jedi here." Qui-Gon shrugged. "The Hutts have their own justice, though the Jedi may not agree with it. We do not control the galaxy." 

"It might be better if you did," Obi-Wan said. 

"I don't believe that." A gust of wind whipped Qui-Gon's hair around behind him. He had to shout to be heard. "Freedom is important to many cultures. More so than protection." 

Obi-Wan squinted at the horizon. "Is that Mos... uh." He pointed at the rounded gray structures in the distance. 

"Mos Espa, yes." 

"Doesn't look incredibly hospitable," Obi-Wan said. 

"I doubt that it is. Most reputable people on this planet are moisture farmers, but we should run into more problems with junk traders and con men." 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said you hadn't been here." 

"I haven't," Qui-Gon answered, with a vague smile. 

Obi-Wan sighed loudly enough for Qui-Gon to hear. To say the man was frustrating would be an understatement. Obi-Wan let silence fall between them. The wind was getting loud enough that it was difficult to hear anything anyway, and his mouth was starting to feel grimy from the sand. He rearranged his scarf so that it covered most of his face. He no longer cared how ridiculous he looked. 

The suns were low in the sky when they finally reached the first buildings. Qui-Gon stopped and looked to Obi-Wan. "We will have to find a place to stay. Stay close to my side." 

Obi-Wan was certain that Qui-Gon would have had to cut off one of his limbs with a lightsaber to keep him from staying close to his side. He'd seen rough people around Coruscant, but they didn't compare to the menagerie of menacing creatures skulking through the streets. Even the shopkeepers selling a variety of foods and other legal goods from stands by the road had sinister leers as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan passed. 

"Why did you tell them to leave us on Tatooine again?" Obi-Wan hissed. 

Qui-Gon did not seem to hear him or, if he did, he chose that moment to turn his attention toward a jagged-toothed clothes-merchant. "Excuse me, do you happen to have a poncho for my young friend and I?" 

"I will have to look at my supplies to see if I have one big enough for you," the merchant said in stilted Basic. 

The merchant waddled back to a bag in the rear corner of his tent. Obi-Wan stared up at Qui-Gon. "Poncho?" 

Qui-Gon did not look at him. "It would be best if you would stay quiet and trust me." 

Obi-Wan sighed. "_Poncho,_" he muttered to himself as he scanned the surrounding stands. The variety of distasteful people was astounding. Coruscant was more diverse than other planets, or so Obi-Wan had been told, but there were nearly none of the Human majority on the Mos Espa street. 

While Qui-Gon spoke about places to stay in Mos Espa, Obi-Wan let his attention wander to the customer at the adjacent stand. She was a kind-looking woman with a little boy clutching at her simple gray dress. In fact, she was the first kind-looking person he'd seen since leaving Coruscant. Something was glittering in her hand, which appeared to be currency of some sort, and she seemed to be trying to purchase a large jar of something green and slimy from the merchant. Obi-Wan couldn't imagine why. She looked near-human, if not completely human, and the way the slime was packaged, Obi-Wan was sure it was meant to be eaten. 

Obi-Wan sneered and looked back to Qui-Gon. "Will it be much longer?" he asked, not particularly concerned that he was interrupting Qui-Gon mid-sentence. 

"Be quiet," Qui-Gon said tersely, and continued to speak with the clothes merchant. 

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak, but a cry jerked his attention back to the stand next to them. The merchant had the woman's arm in his grasp, and he was holding a long, slender knife over her. Obi-Wan was moving before he could stop himself. 

He lept over his cargo bin and grabbed the merchants arm, pulling the knife away from the woman. The merchant was startled enough by the intrusion that he loosened his grip on the woman, and she got away. He pulled himself free of Obi-Wan, leaving a bright red trail of blood from the inside of Obi-Wan's elbow to his wrist. 

"_Stop._" Qui-Gon's voice silenced the merchant's shouting and the wailing of the little woman's little boy. "What is the problem, Merchant?" 

"Shmi -- Gardulla's _woman_ -- tried to short-change me," the merchant spat. "When Gardulla is one of the richest Hutts to visit Tatooine." 

"That is not true," Shmi said, as she straightened her dress. "You expect more because it is for my mistress. For anyone else, you would consider it fair." 

Qui-Gon turned his attention to Obi-Wan. "Is your injury serious?" 

Obi-Wan shook his head. "It's a shallow cut." 

"I doubt," said Qui-Gon, "that you want to anger this Gardulla by killing her slave, and I know that you do not want to anger me by further injuring my companion. And if you think Hutts are dangerous and cruel, you have not dealt with me. Would it not be better to accept the payment so that we might all walk away?" 

Obi-Wan stared up at Qui-Gon with awe while the merchant took Shmi's money and gave her the slimy jar. Qui-Gon pushed a wadded poncho into Obi-Wan's chest. "Come. And put this on." He walked back to their bins. Obi-Wan followed, pulling the poncho over his head with his good arm. "Wait!" Shmi followed after them, but she froze when Qui-Gon turned his attention to her. "I... only wanted to thank you. You don't find many who would help in this part of the galaxy." 

"You have a kid," Obi-Wan said, nodding to the little boy at the hem of her skirt. 

Shmi looked at him warmly, but also curiously. She set down her jar and reached for him. "How is your arm. Let me see it." 

"It looks worse than it is. I think it's mostly just blood." Obi-Wan flipped over his forearm for her to look at it, and she held it gently with one hand while she carefully touched the skin next to the cut with the other. 

"You'll want to disinfect it. You can't know what horrible things that boning knife has come in contact with. Most of the fare isn't as well preserved as the Bala frogs." 

Obi-Wan frowned and decided not to think about what kinds of little germs were running around his system at that moment. "Qu-- uh-- My friend will take care of it. Don't--" 

A loud squeal silenced Obi-Wan and stole Shmi's attention toward it. Her boy was standing at Qui-Gon's feet, reaching up toward him. Qui-Gon was glaring down at the boy, but he wasn't disheartened. He stretched his little arms up toward Qui-Gon again until his fingers found the edge of the poncho. He held on, as if trying to climb up the side of the monstrous Jedi. 

"Ani!" Shmi scolded. "Leave him alone." 

"Nooo," little Ani insisted, and he pushed himself up on his tip-toes to get a better grip on the poncho. 

Qui-Gon finally dipped down and picked Ani up, his hands completely encircling the boy from his sternum to his spine. "What do you want?" 

"I'm sorry," Shmi said, her expression uncertain. "Sometimes he's a bit over-friendly." She tried to take Ani from Qui-Gon, but Ani twisted away from her. 

"I going with him, Mommy, " Ani said, quite confidently. 

"No, Ani. They helped us. Now, let's leave them alone." 

"Uh-uh. He gonna free us. I dreamed it." 

Qui-Gon caught Obi-Wan's look over the little boy's shoulder. He set Ani down. "I'm sorry," Qui-Gon said. "We must take our leave of you now." 

Ani loudly protested, and when his mother took his arm to lead him away, he went limp, using his entire weight to fight her. 

"Ani," Qui-Gon said. Ani looked up at him with huge eyes. "Go with your mother. If your dream is meant to come true, it will come true." 

Ani was still for a moment. Then, he got to his feet again. The woman looked at Qui-Gon strangely, then she muttered another thank you and hurried away. Obi-Wan watched them go, then glanced down at his forgotten arm. Sand was starting to get into it. 

"Let's go, Obi-Wan. The clothes merchant told me of a place where we can stay for the time being." 

---

Obi-Wan was dead asleep on the inn's bed -- still in his clothes, still with the flower-print scarf on his face. Qui-Gon had been talking to him about how to hide his more valuable possessions and keep others out, so that a thief would see the things in the bins and not look further, but he'd been interrupted by Obi-Wan's snoring. He went to Obi-Wan and stood over him, watching him sleep. Obi-Wan's lips were parted slightly and his head was positioned awkwardly on the pillow, so that it was tilted back. If he slept too long that way, his neck would be stiff. 

Qui-Gon sat next to him, careful not to wake him, and picked up his injured arm. He closed his eyes and let the Force flow through him, into the cut. His healing ability was not perfect, but it would be enough to help guard from infection and heal itself more quickly. When he opened his eyes again, he found Obi-Wan staring up at him with an intensity that made Qui-Gon uncomfortable. He set Obi-Wan's arm back down on the mattress. 

"It should feel better now," Qui-Gon said. 

"Yeah," Obi-Wan said, but he frowned down at it. The blood had dried to a crusty brown. "I don't suppose I could get a shower in the near future." 

"Water is a commodity here, for obvious reasons," Qui-Gon said. "I am told that it will be available in our room in an hour." 

Obi-Wan made a quiet sound of acknowledgement. He was obviously still tired. Qui-Gon reached around his head to untie his scarf, and Obi-Wan lifted his head to give him access. "What are we doing here?" Obi-Wan muttered. "How are we going to get to Naboo?" 

"I will take care of things." There was a line where the scarf had been. Qui-Gon couldn't tell if the upper half of Obi-Wan's face was burnt or just dirty. Probably a bit of both. "You should rest." 

"Stay with me," Obi-Wan whispered, barely awake. 

Qui-Gon said nothing. He waited until Obi-Wan was snoring again and stood. He had a busy night ahead of him. 

Below the rooms of the inn was a pub of sorts, though it was more a gathering place of people, tables, and alcohol more than anything as organized as a pub. He assumed someone was in charge, but the person's identity wasn't immediately obvious. Qui-Gon dragged a table and chair across the dirty floor to one of the darker corners and waited. 

When they came, they weren't difficult to pick out. Physically, they were nondescript near-humans. But they wore black from head to toe, something rare among the locals. They didn't look much like professional bounty hunters either. Just high class thugs. 

Qui-Gon had chosen the inn carefully. There was only one entrance, one set of stairs up to the beds, and an official registry, which could be easily hacked into remotely with the right kind of droid. He gave Mika's men credit. They hadn't taken long to arrive. 

He rose and stood in their path to the staircase. The shorter of the two narrowed his eyes up at Qui-Gon, "Excuse me, old man." 

Qui-Gon smiled calmly. "I would like to make a deal with you, which would make both of our lives easier." 

The short man sneered. "Is that so?" 

"Yes." Qui-Gon glanced away, at nothing in particular, then back. He lowered his voice. "I take it you're looking for Kenobi, yes?" 

"Why?" the tall one asked. 

"I expect your boss told you that someone would be helping him." 

The short one's lips twitched. If Qui-Gon hadn't been sure before, he was now. 

"Well, he's done nothing but cause trouble, and I would like to get back to Coruscant. So, if we could cut some sort of deal so that I might profit from this trip, I can hand him to you without any problems." 

The two of them looked at each other. The short one smiled. "All right, old timer. You show us where he is, and we'll talk." 

"Right," Qui-Gon said. He turned and walked up the stairs. He listened to their four feet follow behind him. He walked the entire length of the hall and stopped at the last door, where the overhead light had gone out and cast a shadow. "This is the room," he said. "I think we should talk about payment now." 

The short one laughed and pulled out his blaster. "I don't think so." 

"Are you going to kill me?" Qui-Gon asked. 

He raised the blaster, pointing it at Qui-Gon's forehead. His smirk emphasized the tiny scar on his bottom lip. "What do you think?" 

Qui-Gon could see his ligaments begin to move to fire the blaster, and he reacted. He slammed the short one's head into the wall. The tall one went for the blaster at his hip, and Qui-Gon punched his nose with the heel of his hand. The bone went into the brain, so the tall one was dead before he hit the floor. The short one was still unconscious when Qui-Gon strangled him. 

Qui-Gon dragged the bodies to the other end of the hall, then carried them down the stairs. Tatooine was a good place to dispose of bodies. No one would ask questions, and the sun-scorched scavenger animals outside of Mos Espa would have an easy meal. 

_Help him, you can, but not as a Jedi,_ Yoda had said. Perhaps this was not what he had meant. 

---

Obi-Wan woke gasping and coughing for air. He pushed himself up on his palms and put his hand to his chest. One, two, three, four; he counted the breaths out until they came normally again. 

He'd dreamt about his family. He'd dreamt about them tied to their chairs in a circle. He dreamt about Pag shooting Owen first. Then Eurig. Then his mother. 

The bed across from him was empty. The room he was in was empty. He couldn't feel Qui-Gon anywhere. 

He drew his legs up and hugged them against his chest, burring his face into his knees. There were tears behind his eyes, he could feel them, but he didn't cry. There was more than one moment he felt ill, but he didn't throw up. He sat that way, very still, until the door opened. Obi-Wan looked up, and Qui-Gon was standing near the door, not moving. 

"I asked you not to leave me," Obi-Wan said. 

Qui-Gon remained still for a moment, and then he was at Obi-Wan's side in a few quick movements. He sat on the bed next to him and put his long arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders. Obi-Wan tensed instinctively at the touch. But he wanted the touch -- maybe needed -- so he leaned into Qui-Gon's shoulder. 

"I had a dream," he muttered. The fabric of Qui-Gon's robe was rough against his face. "I saw them die. I saw my mother watching them die. I'd wanted so much for her to be the first. The other two were afraid for themselves, but Mom was always afraid for other people. Always. It would have been worse for her to watch. Worse than death. He must have known that somehow." 

Obi-Wan could hear his own voice, strange in his ears, with its high pitch. He was verging on hysteria, and he wanted to stop, but he couldn't. "I don't want to be Force sensitive if this is what it means. I want things to go back to the way they used to be. I want to have meaningless dreams. I don't want to know that the things I see could have happened or will happen." 

Qui-Gon's arm was stiff and heavy as lead on Obi-Wan, but his voice was soothing. "Things will not go back. Time does not move that way. But _you will_ survive. You are safe." 

"But that ship. You said you'd been expecting trouble on Zolan. Mika must still be after me. I can't be safe." 

"No," Qui-Gon said firmly. "You are safe now, Obi-Wan." He pulled away to look Obi-Wan in the face. "Do you trust me?" 

"Yes," Obi-Wan said without reservation. 

"Then trust that you are safe." 

"I trust you," Obi-Wan said. He could feel Qui-Gon preparing to move away from him, so he moved closer. "I'll trust that I'm safe if you won't leave again." 

"Obi-Wan," he said quietly. 

"I don't want to hear it," Obi-Wan said. "I don't want reason or logic or Jedi bullshitting. I just want you to say you won't go anywhere. For now." 

"I won't go anywhere for now," Qui-Gon echoed. 

Obi-Wan rested the side of his face against Qui-Gon's shoulder. "Good," he whispered. "If I have to have these blasted dreams, I don't want to wake up from them alone." 

Qui-Gon was quiet for a long moment. He had moved his arm away from Obi-Wan, but there was no place for it to go. The two of them were at the edge of the bed, and Obi-Wan's body blocked it from going to Qui-Gon's lap. 

Obi-Wan almost smiled. He wondered if all Jedi were so awkward about these things. "Put it back around me," he said. 

He could feel Qui-Gon's eyes on the top of his head. 

"Come on." Obi-Wan looked up at him. "It doesn't hurt anything And you want to. The way I wanted to help that woman, Shmi. You came to me without thinking." 

"It doesn't mean anything," Qui-Gon said. 

"Nothing is meaningless." He reached behind Qui-Gon and pulled Qui-Gon's arm around his waist. He looked down at Qui-Gon's hand. The palm of it was red, like a bruise was forming under the skin. "I don't know what you're afraid of." 

"I'm not." 

"Is that another thing Jedi aren't allowed?" Obi-Wan asked. 

Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow. "It is, actually." 

"Well, there's one I can agree with." Obi-Wan shifted his weight, so that he could rest more comfortably against Qui-Gon. "No use in fear, anyway." 

"No use in filtering your fear into safer emotions either." 

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow. "What?" 

"Tomorrow, I will find transport to Naboo. I will need some of your things to barter with, so if you'll separate out what you're willing to part with..." 

"Okay," Obi-Wan said slowly. He turned his head down. He didn't want to see Qui-Gon's frown anymore. "Whatever I'm doing to make you angry right now, I--" 

"I'm not angry." 

"Another rule?" 

"Yes." 

Obi-Wan laughed weakly. "Okay, well if you could just tell me how I'm supposed to be acting toward you, I'd love to know." 

"I... have no instruction for... There is no way that you are _supposed_ to act, Obi-Wan." 

Obi-Wan could tell Qui-Gon wanted to escape him again. He considered backing off himself -- But why should he? Qui-Gon was a grown man. If he couldn't act for himself, it was his own fault. Obi-Wan wasn't about to make it easier on him. "For there being no 'supposed to', there seem to be a lot of rules." 

"The rules are for me, not you," Qui-Gon said. 

"I don't mean the Jedi rules. I mean the Qui-Gon rules. Those _are_ for me." 

Qui-Gon paused. "Obi-Wan. I simply do not wish to be forced to put off your advances at every turn." 

Obi-Wan jerked his head to look at Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon's face was completely serious. Obi-Wan laughed. Really laughed this time. All the way down to his belly. It felt good. 

"You dirty old man. I am not making advances to you this time. I had a bad dream. I just wanted someone here." Obi-Wan laced his fingers in Qui-Gon's and turned it to look at his palm again. It looked worse. "What did you do to your hand?" 

Qui-Gon stared down at him, with only the hint of embarrassment -- perhaps something else? -- on his face. "I didn't mean to assume." 

"Yet you did." Obi-Wan still had the comfortable feeling of laughter in him, though the laughter itself had died down. "Really, what is this? It looks like you hurt it pretty bad." 

Qui-Gon pulled his hand away and stood quickly before Obi-Wan could catch him again. "You'll need sleep. You'll be busy tomorrow." 

Obi-Wan sighed. "Please, Qui-Gon. Could you not do that thing where you act like I'm poisonous?" 

"I apologize," Qui-Gon said. He leaned down slightly, and put his hand, the uninjured one, on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I am in a delicate situation. I cannot allow my judgment to become clouded." 

"By having sex with me? Seems like that would relieve tension more than cloud things up." 

"It is not that simple," Qui-Gon said. 

"Things are what you make them." Obi-Wan smiled a little. "Especially sex." 

Qui-Gon looked up, away from Obi-Wan, but he did not move his hand from Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I wish that were true." 

"You're sure it's not?" 

Qui-Gon leaned further down and, for a frozen moment, let his lips touch Obi-Wan's. His beard was like pin pricks on Obi-Wan's face. He hadn't noticed it the first time they'd kissed. 

Then, he pulled away again. Stood up straight. He seemed suddenly very far away. "I cannot allow my judgment to become more clouded than it already has. It is very dangerous for a Jedi to lose his judgment." 

"You said you weren't helping me as a Jedi." Obi-Wan's throat felt very dry, and he tried to swallow, but he could only swallow air. 

Qui-Gon smiled, absolutely without mirth. "At times I think we are very alike, Obi-Wan. But I cannot cease being a Jedi. I am more Jedi than I am Qui-Gon." 

He raised his hand to look at the palm. The red began to fade to pink, then white. Qui-Gon spoke again, quietly. "You may not be able to understand that. I don't think I did until today. I think that I will be paying for this mission for a very long time after it is over." 

The room felt as if all air and warmth had left it. Obi-Wan gripped onto the bed sheets to keep his hands from shaking noticeably. "I didn't mean to be a burden." He'd meant the words to come out bitter, but he sounded honestly apologetic in his own ears. 

"My burden is my own," Qui-Gon said. 

Obi-Wan looked down at his lap. "'It's not you, it's me?' That's such a tired line, Qui-Gon, honestly." He was flippant again. That was comforting, in a way. 

Qui-Gon was quiet for a moment. Always calculating. "There should be water available now. You should bathe, then try to get some sleep." 

"Yeah," Obi-Wan said. "Sounds good." 

Qui-Gon nodded, then retreated to his bed. He was sitting, preparing to meditate. Obi-Wan tried to appreciate the small show of weakness for what it was, and how difficult the admission seemed to be for Qui-Gon. But all Obi-Wan could feel was the electric heat of frustration at his temples and in his chest. 

---

Most of the visitors for the Boonta Eve Classic stayed in their palace like starships, but there was one accommodation for particularly important (or wealthy) guests near the track itself. Qui-Gon instinctively made a mental note to keep this situation in mind the next time a Padawan was complaining about the extensive research Jedi spent most of their days at the Temple with. 

When someone else's Padawan complained. 

Qui-Gon woke Obi-Wan up early that morning, and he was still grimacing and squinting about it when they made their way into Chowbaso, one of the more populated dining establishments near the Bunky Dunko hotel. By Outer Rim standards, it wasn't one of the more extravagant places, but it was high quality. Mostly clean floors, nice tables and chairs of various sizes, and a mostly droid staff, programmed to be polite. One such droid greeted Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan at the door and led them to an open table, made for humanoids. 

"Do you take Republic credits?" Qui-Gon asked. 

"Yes sir," the droid answered. "Though, there will be a slight markup, you understand. Chowbaso apologizes for any inconvenience." 

"Of course." Qui-Gon sat in the booth they'd been lead to and motioned for Obi-Wan to sit across from him. The droid set menus in front of them and rolled away. 

Obi-Wan was looking around with an almost comically skeptical expression on his face. "What are we doing here anyway?" 

"Getting something to eat," Qui-Gon said. 

"Right. But why really?" 

"Do we need another reason?" 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "Look. The days of me thinking you don't have a double agenda in most every situation are over, so you may as well get used to it." 

"Read your menu, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon answered calmly. "I told you; we will be spending the day looking for transport to Naboo." 

"Transport to Naboo. Transport..." Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon over the edge of his menu. "No, I don't think they're serving that today. Oh, but they are serving fried sand slugs. Thoughtful." 

"Patience," Qui-Gon said. "I believe the custodian of our future transport will be arriving shortly." 

"Is there actually a point to your mystery, or do you just do it for fun?" 

Qui-Gon smiled and turned his head down toward his own menu. "You're only irritable because I got you out of bed early." 

"Too true." Obi-Wan slapped his menu closed. "I'm getting a drink." 

"Do you think that--" Qui-Gon went silent when a flood of light poured into the restaurant. The double doors had been pushed open by two scantily clad Twi'lek females. He watched from the corner of his eye as two server droids rushed to set up one the largest tables, flanked by two curved, low-lying chairs -- perfectly made for a Hutt to lounge upon. "I believe what we've been waiting for is arriving," he said quietly. 

Obi-Wan turned his head to look, frowning into the daylight, as the gigantic Hutt slithered into the restaurant. "Please, please tell me we're going to be dealing with the Twi'leks," Obi-Wan said. 

"Keep watching," Qui-Gon said. "Perhaps a bit more discreetly." 

Obi-Wan managed to keep his face toward Qui-Gon now, but he was hardly managing anything that Qui-Gon would call discreet. Trailing the Hutt were two others, one Rodian and one Human. Obi-Wan's eyebrows shot up. "Shmi? How did you know?" 

"Two Hutts regularly attend the Boonta Eve Classic; Jabba and Gardulla. Gardulla is the more social of the two. And Hutts don't go terribly long without a meal." 

"And this is the best place in town, sad as it is," Obi-Wan said. 

Qui-Gon hushed him as their server arrived again, asking for their order. He bit back irritation when Obi-Wan asked if any of the drinks were non-lethal to Humans, then ordered one that wasn't, then ordered food for the both of them. Obi-Wan leaned in as soon as the droid was gone. 

"So, how's Shmi going to help us get to Naboo?" 

"Patience, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said. "I'm sure you'll want your drink first anyway." 

Obi-Wan glared fiercely at him, but he didn't argue. 


	5. The Enslaved

**Chapter 5 - The Enslaved**  
_by dilly r_

Qui-Gon was a crazy old man.

It had taken Obi-Wan all of the eleven days that he had known Qui-Gon for the fact to fully sink in.

Qui-Gon was a crazy, crazy old bastard.

The Hutt, Gardulla, had certainly taken her (was it a her?) time in eating. Obi-Wan hadn't been able to touch the plate of food Qui-Gon had ordered for him due to all of the disgusting slurping noises coming from the too-nearby Hutt. However, his drink was all right, and he'd had time to refill twice before Qui-Gon stood and motioned for Obi-Wan to follow.

As they approached Gardulla's table, the Rodian member of Gardulla's entourage stopped them, holding a blaster to Qui-Gon's chest. He growled something in Huttese.

"I apologize for the intrusion, but I have important business with Gardulla."

The Rodian began to speak again, but a deep rumbling erupted from Gardulla's throat, silencing him. Gardulla motioned to one of the Twi'lek girls to leave her dancing -- which both of the Twi'leks has been busy at through the entire meal -- and come to her side. Gardulla spoke again. Obi-Wan thought she sounded amused.

"The illustrious Gardulla," the Twi'lek translated haltingly. "Will hear what you have to say."

Shmi was staring up at Qui-Gon with the same near-horrified curiosity that Obi-Wan felt. He stood silently by Qui-Gon side.

"I have come here on behalf of a high-ranking official of the Nabooian royalty. This official believes that a... family member produced of a discreet relationship was lost. I have come to believe that this family member is the son of your servant, Shmi. I come to you asking that you transport Shmi and her son to Naboo, so that my employer may keep this sensitive matter close, to protect them and himself from those who would use it against him."

As the Twi'lek girl translated, Gardulla's amusement became more apparent. She was almost wiggling about, much like an excited Kowakian monkey-lizard.

"The magnificent Gardulla asks why she would hand over two slaves to you."

"We have a wealth of Republic credits and valuables to offer," Qui-Gon answered coolly.

Obi-Wan stared up at Qui-Gon. Was he bartering with Obi-Wan's possessions?

Gardulla made a sound somewhere between a growl and a raspberry. The Twi'lek translator had to jump out of the way of one of Gardulla's tiny flailing arms. "Gardulla th-the Wise does not think this a fair trade. For a slave, she must receive a slave in return."

Gardulla pointed at Obi-Wan. "_Da wanga,_" she said.

"This one is not for sale, I'm afraid."

"Then, there is no deal." The Twi'lek's voice was shaking with fear.

Qui-Gon was quiet for a moment. Then, he said, "All right."

Obi-Wan grabbed Qui-Gon's poncho and tugged on it. "Wh-what are you talking about? You can't--"

"However," Qui-Gon interrupted, holding up a hand to silence Obi-Wan. "This boy is very valuable to me. I would need some supplement to even the scales."

Gardulla curled her long, slimy lips and said something in a low voice that the Twi'lek did not translate. Obi-Wan couldn't feel his hands or his feet. What was Qui-Gon doing?

But he'd told Qui-Gon that he trusted him.

Again, Gardulla spoke, and this time, the Twi'lek translated. "The stupendous Gardulla does not believe that this boy is worth two hard working slaves."

"The child is a toddler," Qui-Gon said. "Nevertheless, if we cannot reach an agreement, I have another idea."

Gardulla turned her great head to the side and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. She then waved her hand for Qui-Gon to continue.

"I have heard that you champion the Xexto, Gasgano, in the Boonta Eve Classic. However, I believe that the Gran, Mawhonic, will win."

When Qui-Gon did not go on, the wide-eyed Twi'lek quietly translated his words. This sent Gardulla into a rage. Her tail knocked down the table before her, and a leftover scurried away.

"If you are correct," Qui-Gon finally continued, "I will give you my slave and all of the valuables I mentioned earlier. If you are right, you will give me Shmi and her son, and you will arrange our transport to Naboo."

Shaking, the Twi'lek translated Qui-Gon's words. This seemed to calm Gardulla. A light sparked in her eyes. She spoke through a wicked smile.

"Th-the, um, splendid Gardulla finds this bet to her liking. But," the Twi'lek paused for Gardulla to add to the sentence. "But, she would ask that the boy stay with her the day before the race, so that she can be sure she approves."

Qui-Gon nodded. "And I would ask the same of her slaves."

Gardulla laughed.

"It's a deal," the Twi'lek said, grinning with relief.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, was not grinning. Nor was he relieved. He watched numbly as Qui-Gon was told a place to meet the day before the race. To exchange slaves. Then, he watched as Gardulla and her entourage departed.

Qui-Gon said nothing.

Qui-Gon was a crazy old bastard.

"I think I'm going to order another drink," Obi-Wan muttered.

"Don't worry," Qui-Gon said calmly. "I was hoping that you would not have to spend time with her alone, but we have two days to prepare you to act accordingly."

"By accordingly you mean...?"

"In a way that doesn't... encourage her to disapprove of you." Qui-Gon took a deep breath, and moved back toward their booth while a couple of the serving droids hurriedly righted the Hutt's table. "Be glad that we were not dealing with Jabba. Gardulla's servants have a far longer life span."

"Life... span." Obi-Wan sat down heavily and motioned for one of the droids to refill his glass.

"You have nothing to worry about. She won't harm you while I have possession of her slaves -- or while a bet is on the line."

Obi-Wan rested his face against his hand. "You're pushing this trust thing a little far, Qui-Gon. Isn't there some kind of more logical way to go about this? Or at least less me-spending-time-with-a-Hutt-ical."

"I'm here to take care of you, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said. He looked straight into Obi-Wan's eyes. "I would not let you be hurt."

"Okay." Finally, his drink was filled again. He took a long, deep drink of it. "Okay. I can do this one day, thing. But if her guy wins, you are not turning me over to her. Do you understand?"

"Gasgano won't win."

Qui-Gon was a crazy, crazy bastard.

* * *

The lobby of the Bunky Dunko was dark even in midmorning, lit only by a small centrally located skylight and ceiling high floor lamps in each of the eight corners. Rich jewel tone fabrics and dark gold painted walls did not lighten the place any further. However, it was in nice contrast to the stark white and blue of the desert. Air filters and a huge water fountain kept the room cool, almost cold. 

It disgusted Qui-Gon. It was gaudy and unnecessary, like a gemstone in the sand. With so many honest workers struggling in domed holes in the earth, the crime lords lived in luxury.

Obi-Wan didn't seem to mind it. He had, in fact, staked out a spot on the bench that circled the fountain. Qui-Gon followed him slowly, giving his eyes time to scan the entire room. It was mostly empty, and the few people there seemed uninterested in their arrival.

"So, you're absolutely certain I'm not going to have to do anything, you know. Disgusting?" Obi-Wan asked again when Qui-Gon was close enough to hear.

He sat stiffly on the edge of the bench. This climate made his bones ache. "A Hutt's interest in a humanoid seems to stop at watching them. As long as you don't seem to be repelled by Gardulla, I doubt she will do anything unseemly."

"Act like she's not a big, slimy gas balloon. Got it." He reached back and dipped his hand in the fountain, then wiped his damp hand on his face. "This place is nicer than the place _we're_ staying at, anyway."

"Mm." Qui-Gon glanced Obi-Wan over again. To make Coruscanti clothes look Nabooian was no easy task, and they hadn't entirely succeeded. Hopefully, Gardulla was no expert on the Naboo. Obi-Wan wore the clothes well; that would probably be all that mattered.

Obi-Wan caught him looking and smiled. "You _do_ have a backup plan, right?"

"I told you before, I--"

The Rodian cast a shadow over them. Shmi was standing behind him with Anakin in her arms.

"I am here at Gardulla's bidding," the Rodian sneered in Huttese.

Qui-Gon stood. Now, the Rodian had to tilt his head back to glare Qui-Gon in the eye. "Very well. My boy is ready."

He took Obi-Wan by his arm and urged him to stand. Obi-Wan muttered "_his boy_" under his breath, but he stood.

The Rodian looked Obi-Wan up and down, then nodded. "Come with me," he snarled in Huttese.

Obi-Wan stared at him, uncomprehending.

A growl of irritation rumbled in the Rodian's throat, then he grabbed Obi-Wan by the wrist and pulled him along.

Qui-Gon watched them go. He had an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Yes, this was a gamble, but it was also what needed to be done.

"Said he'd come back," Ani said, grinning hugely at his mother.

Shmi forced a smile for Ani's sake, but her eyes showed Qui-Gon far more caution.

"I assure you," Qui-Gon said. "I will explain everything if you'll come with me."

"I should hope so," Shmi said.

* * *

Obi-Wan had never worked so hard in his life. 

Gardulla had put the red Twi'lek in charge of him. She may have been the only one familiar with Basic, in fact, because Obi-Wan hadn't heard any of the others speak it. The other Twi'lek, the white one, didn't speak at all. She only danced for Gardulla, and sometimes rubbed or scratched at Gardulla's bloated anatomy when, Obi-Wan presumed, told to do so. The red Twi'lek, though, did nothing but relay Gardulla's commands to Obi-Wan and watch over him while he carried it out.

The tasks themselves were ridiculous. It was a hotel room, a high end one, and everything was already clean. Yet again and again, the Twi'lek would come to him with the same kinds of tasks.

"The mighty Gardulla commands that you beat the sheets on the balcony, then make the bed with the red sheet on top, and the pillows arranged along the wall in order of size from the headboard to the footboard."

Obi-Wan stared at the Twi'lek for a long moment. She would look back at him with something that could be either sympathy or relief that she wasn't being ordered around for the day. Obi-Wan suspected that it was the latter, because she made no move to help, even when they were out of Gardulla's sight.

There were thirty-five pillows on Gardulla's bed -- Obi-Wan counted them as he arranged them.

"The effulgent Gardulla commands that you brush the carpet," the Twi'lek said, holding out a rontohair brush.

Obi-Wan laughed in disbelief. "Brush the carpet?"

"Yes," the Twi'lek said, nervously glancing in Gardulla's direction. Gardulla seemed to be paying more attention to the white Twi'lek scratching at her back than the two of them.

He took the brush from the Twi'lek, which seemed to calm her nerves. "Is there a particular way I should brush it?"

"Sh-she didn't specify," the Twi'lek said. "Thoroughly."

"Of course." Obi-Wan sighed and got onto his knees. The white carpet was perfectly clean, and its fibers were smooth and untangled. He began to brush. "Is this how she spends most of her days? Sitting there and..." Gardulla made a gurgling sound as the white Twi'lek apparently found a good spot to rub at. "Uh. Whatever that is she's doing?"

"Gardulla doesn't like us to speak while we're working."

Obi-Wan looked up at her. "_We're_ not working. I'm working. You're watching me work."

"Shh," the Twi'lek hissed. She squatted down and whispered, "She'll get angry if we disturb her. And I can't help. She'll--"

"Let me guess: get angry."

She nodded vehemently.

Obi-Wan looked over her shoulder at Gardulla again. They were in the next room, but he could see her, and she them if she cared to, through the doorway. "I don't think she can even hear us from there. She looks like she's going to sleep."

"It's better not to risk it. Especially if she's going to sleep."

"Well," Obi-Wan said, brushing away at a small patch of perfect carpet. "If I don't talk to someone, I'm going to fall asleep from boredom. I bet that'll make her even madder."

"I won't let you fall asleep," she said.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Then talk to me. What's your name?"

"Lia'rin." She looked back to Gardulla for a long moment, then back to Obi-Wan, apparently satisfied that Gardulla wouldn't punish them. "Yours?"

"Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Lia'rin tilted her head. "Does everyone from Naboo talk like that?"

Obi-Wan frowned. He wasn't sure, actually. Better to tell a version of the truth. "I'm from Coruscant originally."

Her eyes widened. "_Coruscant_? How did you get all the way out here? How did someone like you become a slave?"

"Ah, well. It's a long story." Obi-Wan pushed himself over, to work on another patch of carpet. "The short version is that my parents died, and I had nowhere to go. How about you?"

"My parents sold me. Lethen are rare, so we go for a lot on the black market."

Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow. "Sold you?"

"They thought it would be a better life. Ryloth is no Coruscant, that's for sure. I mean, I've never been to Coruscant, but I've heard... I've heard it's beautiful."

"It's overrated." Obi-Wan said.

Lia'rin ran her fingers through the carpet next to her. "It has to be better than the places I've been. I've seen pictures."

"I guess it depends on what part. There are good parts of the city. Then, there are the real parts."

"I bet none of it's as bad as Tatooine."

Obi-Wan stifled a laugh. "Okay, you may have me there."

"Trust me, if you'd--"

Lia'rin was interrupted by a great bellow from the other room. Her eyes went round and she jumped to her feet. She hurried into the other room, stuttering what sounded like Huttese apologies. Obi-Wan watched as Gardulla, wiggling back and forth with her mighty tail, belted out words like some sort of toneless opera. Lia'rin bowed several times while Gardulla spoke and, finally, she came back to Obi-Wan.

"The lovely Gardulla needs us to get supplies," Lia'rin said in a flurry of Basic.

Obi-Wan stood. "I didn't get you in trouble, did I?"

She shook her head quickly. "Come. We must hurry." She took Obi-Wan by the wrist and dragged him toward the door. "Leave the brush," she said, and she grabbed it out of his hand, dropping it on the floor as they left the hotel room.

Once they were in the hallway, she let go of him and put her hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "Are you all right?"

"I think so." She glared up at him. "If she'd caught us, she would have killed me, do you understand? She wouldn't have touched you because you belong to someone else, but she would have _killed me_. She told me to say nothing to you. I was disobeying her."

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said. "I didn't know."

Lia'rin narrowed her eyes. "You must have a kind master, Human."

"I... he's reasonable."

"That's what I mean." She blew out a breath. "Okay, we need to hurry. She's hungry. I doubt you've ever dealt with a hungry Hutt before."

"And I don't care to," Obi-Wan said.

"Smart man. Come on."

* * *

Ani -- Anakin Skywalker was his full name, Qui-Gon knew now -- sat on the edge of the bed that Obi-Wan had been sleeping in a few hours ago, kicking his short legs vehemently against the air. His mother stood over him, much more still, with her arms tucked together against her chest. 

"If you are a Jedi," Shmi said carefully, "what do you want to do with us?"

Qui-Gon smiled. He liked her for being so wary of him. "Normal procedure would be to test your son, now that I have sensed his ability. However, I am not on a normal mission, so I plan to take him back to the Temple to have him tested. At which time, you would be able to decide whether he would be trained as a Jedi or not."

"If not?" Shmi put her hand on the top of Anakin's head deliberately to keep him from speaking, but his eyes were round as Tatooine's twin suns.

"If not, you would be free to do as you wish."

Shmi tilted her head, studying him. "You must know that we have nothing."

"Yes," Qui-Gon said. "I would make sure that you were aided in adjusting to normal society whether or not you choose to allow the training."

"I am sorry, Qui-Gon -- Master Jinn -- but this is all a bit hard to believe." She pressed her lips into a line and pushed a breath out of her nostrils. "I'm sure you know the saying: when something seems too good to be true..."

"_Mom._" Ani tugged on his mother's dress, staring up at her insistently.

"Be quiet, Anakin," she said firmly.

"But, Mom, he's--"

"I will not have your life ending up worse than it already is." Her voice was wavering on its edge. She drew a deep breath to calm herself.

Qui-Gon was quiet for a moment.

"Jedi do not usually have displays of their power. For various reasons," he said. "However, when the situation does call for it, I am not the usual Jedi."

Qui-Gon pulled his poncho aside with one hand, holding the other hand in front of him. His lightsaber slid easily from his belt and, a moment later, it was in his hand, activated. Shmi, clearly frightened, bumped her heel against the bed trying to take a step away from Qui-Gon, but Anakin squealed with glee and clapped.

"I apologize for the dramatics," Qui-Gon said. He deactivated the lightsaber. He could tell that the display had been enough. "But I sense that your son may grow up to become a great Jedi if given the chance."

Ani was tugging on his mother's dress more ferociously now. "Please, Mommy? Please?"

Shmi's features were still drawn, but she nodded. Ani squealed again.

There was a warmth growing in Qui-Gon's chest that he hadn't felt in a long time. Perhaps he would have a new Padawan after all. It would only be a few more years.

* * *

The day was hot. Well, obviously it was hot. The day was hotter than the others Obi-Wan had spent on Tatooine so far. From the way those around him were acting, it was a hot day for Tatooine in general. He was certain his skin would burn a deeper shade of red than it already had. Soon, he would be as red-skinned as Lia'rin. 

The street was swollen with more people than it was accustomed to holding. Every stand had a line, and every indoor shop or restaurant was filled to the brim Lia'rin and Obi-Wan were both a bit small for their respective species, and that was lucky. It allowed them to slip through the sweating, unsavory crowd; they just had to be careful not to step on any of the smaller aliens who seemed to be the least savory of all. Finally, they came to a stop at the end of one of the ridiculously long lines.

"We'll be getting baked Gibba here. It's one of Gardulla's favorites," Lia'rin said distractedly, trying to peer around the bulbous creature in front of them. "She'll want other things..."

Obi-Wan frowned. The little moment of pleasure he'd had from being able to stop walking for a bit had subsided and excruciating restlessness had replaced it. He'd never been a patient person.

Lia'rin eyed him. "Does your master generally use you for pleasure purposes?"

"What?" Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow dramatically at her. It took him a moment for her meaning to sink in. "No. No. Expressly not." Not that Obi-Wan would have minded from time to time, but in a slave sense? No.

"I only ask because, well." She glanced him up and down. "You don't seem very hardy for a burden slave, and... Well. Your master must have a reason for keeping you."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Must be the heat. Naboo is a lot more temperate than this." Well, Obi-Wan certainly hoped so.

"Shmi usually does these things. If you end up taking her place, you'll have to get used to it." Lia'rin paused. "I was surprised to hear she was of noble blood. She seems made for slavery."

"Is anyone _made_ for slavery?" Obi-Wan asked.

Lia'rim was quiet for a moment, then she shrugged.

"So, you like belonging to Gardulla."

She wet her lips. "There are worse owners."

"Wouldn't you rather be free?"

"I don't know." She squinted at him through the hazy sunlight. "Would you?"

Obi-Wan laughed. "Wouldn't everyone?"

"Not everyone. It's a dangerous galaxy. There's some safety in being a slave."

"Is that why you don't run away?" Obi-Wan asked.

Lia'rin frowned. "If I wanted to, I couldn't." She pointed at the shining collar around her neck. "This has tracking, and it doesn't come off without the key, which Gardulla has. Or if the wearer is dead."

"Guess slave owners aren't the trusting sort."

Lia'rin shrugged, then looked off to her right nervously. "Look, this line is too long for both of us just to stand waiting. I'm going to go to another line. Don't run away and get me in trouble, all right?"

"Promise," Obi-Wan said.

"Good. Wait here once you have the Gibba."

Obi-Wan watched her disappear into the crowd. This day couldn't be over soon enough.

He turned his attention forward again. Whatever Gibba were, they apparently made a horrible stench when baked, accompanied by a black smoke that belched up toward the sky from time to time. Eight more people in front of him. For baked Gibba.

Qui-Gon would keep his word on getting him out of this situation, Obi-Wan reminded himself. He had not let Obi-Wan down yet. Not per se. Obi-Wan wouldn't have chosen this point in his life to gamble himself and everything he owned, but Qui-Gon was a Jedi -- he must have known what he was doing.

"_Pushee, koochoo!_"

Obi-Wan looked up, startled by the loud voice. Some form of creature was hovering over him on the back of a pale skinned pack animal. The animal extended it's huge snout to snuff at Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"Excuse me, what?"

The alien sneered. "_Ootmian goo._ Move out of the way, _Slimo._"

Well, some of that sounded offensive. Obi-Wan glared up at him. "I'm standing in line here. There's plenty of room for you to go the other way."

The alien jerked at his reigns and his mount reared its head up irritably. "Don't make me angry, _Ootmian_. Or else I introduce you to _ma blastoh_, yes?" He pulled a blaster out from his baggage and held it toward Obi-Wan with his spindly arm.

No one seemed to notice that a possibly deadly showdown was taking place within their midst. Obi-Wan sized the guy up. Without the beast of burden, Obi-Wan could take him easy, but he wasn't really in the mood. It was too hot to fight. He kept his eyes on the little alien as he backed away, affording him space. He watched them pass, the alien and his slow-moving mount. There was a bundle on the back--something rolled up in a tarp. Obi-Wan tilted his head to see inside. Something in the shadow was familiar. He squinted.

It was a face. A man's face.

Obi-Wan jerked back, running into someone standing behind him. It wasn't Qui-Gon. It wasn't someone he knew. But the face was familiar; like one he'd seen in a crowd or a few years back, but he didn't quite remember a name or a circumstance. There was another body rolled up in a tarp under that one, but Obi-Wan didn't look. He swallowed the sick feeling down, but it remained even after the alien and his cargo had long passed. He felt sick as he ordered Gardulla's food and he felt sick as he caught back up with Lia'rin.

"We'll have to get one more thing," Lia'rin said. Her voice sounded kind of off, but Obi-Wan wasn't really paying attention enough to notice how it was different. "It's inside at least."

Obi-Wan followed her through an alley and up some stairs. The room they entered smelled like smoke and other musky perfumes -- some of which Obi-Wan recognized. The lighting was wretched, but it was cool inside. Some people were sitting around on chairs or on the floor, as if waiting for something. One of them appeared to be asleep with his head against the wall.

"Stay here," Lia'rin said. "Don't talk to anybody. I'll be right back out."

Lia'rin went to a door at the back of the room and knocked. After a moment, the door slid open and she disappeared behind it.

Obi-Wan stood in the center of the strange waiting room with an uneasy feeling settling in on top of the sick one. These people -- they didn't look like spiceheads or anything. They were too healthy for the sort of long term user who'd get their fix from a place like this. But there was something off about them. They seemed a bit too quiet, a bit too dazed. Obi-Wan found an empty wall to lean against. He felt safer against the wall than in the middle of it all.

Despite that irrational feeling of safety, he jumped when the entryway door swung open, hitting the wall behind it. None of the others seemed to notice. A Rodian stalked in. Was he Gardulla's? Obi-Wan couldn't tell the difference between them, and he didn't remember what Gardulla's Rodian had been wearing. The Rodian didn't seem to notice Obi-Wan, so he doubted it was the same one. He simply walked to the door at the back and knocked on it, louder than Lia'rin had, and it slid open to allow him entrance.

A sallow skinned woman sitting about a foot away from Obi-Wan stared up at him with big, black eyes. He cracked a half-hearted smile at her, but he was sure his distaste was showing. She smiled too. A knowing smile.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak to her, but he was silenced by a scream. The back door slid open again, and the Rodian was dragging Lia'rin out by her lekku.

"Stop that!" Obi-Wan shouted.

The Rodian took a blaster from his hip and shot Lia'rin in the head. Charred bits of brain matter were scattered on the ground, and Lia'rin hung over them, dangling by her lekku. The Rodian took a silver collar from her neck, then he dropped her.

Obi-Wan couldn't move. No one else moved either, except for the Rodian. It was like everything was frozen in time, except for that green scaled monster. He came to Obi-Wan and clasped Lia'rin's silver band around Obi-Wan's neck.

"She try to escape," he said, in heavily accented Basic. "You learn the lesson."

He grabbed Obi-Wan by his bicep and pulled him toward the entryway. Obi-Wan followed, feeling like a toy dragged along by a string.


	6. The Podraces

**Chapter 6 - The Podraces  
**_by dilly r_**  
**

Qui-Gon had taught Obi-Wan simple, clear rules about how to get through the day as a slave.

Don't question. Don't complain. Don't say no to anything. Don't delay in fulfilling orders. Don't make any negative expressions or remarks, even when Gardulla doesn't seem to be paying attention. Don't speak at all unless you absolutely have to.

Obi-Wan remembered Qui-Gon's words -- remembered them exactly down to the way they sounded coming out of Qui-Gon's mouth -- as the white skinned Twi'lek dressed him for the day at the races. This Twi'lek didn't speak to him the way Lia'rin had. She had a scar across her neck that made Obi-Wan wonder if she could speak at all. He didn't ask. Maybe asking was what had awarded this Twi'lek her injury.

His face felt strange, unaccustomed as it was to expressing neutrality. He was always smiling or frowning or arching an eyebrow or anything other than this face of flat lines he wore now.

The Twi'lek finished, except for the trousers which she left for him to fasten, and gestured for him to follow her. He looked at himself in the mirror as he did up his trousers. The shirt was too big and the trousers too small for his body. They had probably been made for a different species, but they fit well enough that he could move properly.

He barely recognized himself in these clothes.

He followed after the Twi'lek back into the hotel's living quarters. Gardulla sneered at him. He kept his face neutral. No aggression. No irritation. Gardulla bellowed orders, then began to slide toward the door. The Twi'lek took Obi-Wan's wrist and pulled him along. The Rodian eyed him as they left, as if expecting Obi-Wan to make a break for it at any moment.

Outside of the hotel, they were all ushered into a huge speeder and flown up to a tower above the race track, then into a huge room full of grotesque and grandiose aliens. Gardulla settled herself and her slaves next to another Hutt, and they began to talk to each other in their similarly deep, rolling voices. Gardulla was soon thrashing about in irritation, and Obi-Wan could understand enough Huttese to know that she was talking about Lia'rin, but not enough to know anything more.

Obi-Wan let his attention wander, scanning the other occupants of the room. They were all rich; that much was clear from their self importance. Nearly all of them spoke Huttese, but Obi-Wan could pick up a word or two of Basic gurgling up over the noise. A droid came through, offering the each guest some sort of slithering hors d'oeuvres.

Obi-Wan felt a steely hand around his forearm, and he was jerked closer to Gardulla. The other Hutt looked him over with an oddly amused expression on his face. He laughed, a cruelly jovial sound, and said something to Gardulla. Gardulla said something bad, in a not entirely friendly manner. Then, they both laughed, eying Obi-Wan.

He wondered if he would ever see Qui-Gon again.

---

Anakin's excited squeals tore through the chatter of the various spectators as they filed into the stands. He strained against his mother's arms, trying to take as much in as he conceivably could. Qui-Gon watched with quiet amusement as Anakin greeted everyone who passed them with "Hi!" or "_Achuta_!"

"Are you sure someone will be down for us?" Shmi said, rearranging Anakin for the thousandth time. "Gardulla may have decided that your boy would be a welcome change to myself and Anakin."

Qui-Gon scanned the crowd once more. "I doubt it. Obi-Wan is far too independent and uncontrollable to be a proper slave. Gardulla should have recognized this by now."

"You don't know what she can do to a person. Her and her Rodian lackey."

"You don't know Obi-Wan."

"If he were so uncontrollable, how did you get him to go along with this scheme of yours?" Shmi asked.

Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow, but kept his eyes on the crowd. "Ah. There is our Rodian lackey now."

Anakin stilled and held close to his mother for the first time since they'd left the hotel. The Rodian moved through the crowd toward them, bumping into more than one rather harshly. When he reached them, he sneered at Shmi. Then, he glared up at Qui-Gon with his globular black eyes.

"You are invited to the tower," he spat in a voice unaccustomed to Basic.

Qui-Gon nodded. "Thank you." He gestured for Shmi to follow the two of them. He heard Anakin whimper to his mother that he didn't want to go to the tower.

"We will be able to see a much larger portion of the track from there," Qui-Gon assured him.

Anakin did not appear to be calmed by this, but he did not voice any further objections.

It was a short walk to the observation tower, and on the outside, it didn't look much different than the other buildings in Mos Espa. However, on the inside, the difference in class of it's guests was immediately obvious. A droid greeted Qui-Gon when he entered with programmed cheer. It did not acknowledge the others. They were only slaves. The Rodian led them into a lift, which was attended by another droid whose only apparent task was to enter to floor number into the system. After a few moments of steady upward movement, the doors slid open, to reveal a large circular conversation pit.

Qui-Gon followed the Rodian down the two steps into the pit, and he spotted Obi-Wan. He was perched on an ottoman near Gardulla next to a white-skinned Twi'lek with his eyes focused downward and his shoulders slumped. Qui-Gon frowned slightly, but forced a more pleasant expression onto his features when he faced Gardulla.

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Gardulla," Qui-Gon said. Obi-Wan's head jerked up at his voice, and he seemed barely able to conceal a relieved smile.

The Rodian leaned toward Gardulla to translate. Qui-Gon did not see the red-skinned Twi'lek who had translated for the Hutt last time. Gardulla smiled.

"Your ware is adequate," she said in Huttese.

A tiny sound escaped Anakin's throat. Qui-Gon hoped Gardulla had not heard it.

"Very well. May the best person win."

The Rodian leaned in and translated to her. Gardulla laughed. The Hutt next to her -- the infamous Jabba -- laughed with her. Gardulla flung her tail and bumped the ottoman. The Twi'lek jumped up, and she, discretely as possible, pulled Obi-Wan up to his feet as well

"I invite you to sit with us and enjoy some pre-race conversation."

Qui-Gon reminded himself quickly that he was, for the time being, as good as a slave owner. He bowed his head slightly with false graciousness and sat where Obi-Wan had been a few moments before. Obi-Wan tried to edge closer to Qui-Gon, but the Twi'lek pulled him by his bicep and whispered something to him.

Qui-Gon tried not to look at Obi-Wan for more than momentary glances. It would be easier for both of them to get through this if they acknowledged each other as little as possible. He invited Shmi to set Anakin down next to him. Anakin was, as far as the Hutts knew, a noble. The action would not be considered peculiar.

"Gardulla tells me," Jabba said in low, rolling Huttese. "That you have bet on the Mawhonic."

"Yes," Qui-Gon answered.

Jabba had his own translator: a very nervous-looking Balosar. "A wise choice, my friend." He drew out a laugh at the irritated expression on Gardulla's face. "Your bet, however, is less than wise. But I understand you are not in business for yourself."

Qui-Gon nodded. "This boy is quite valuable to my employer."

"This Sebulba interests me. He has the... attitude of a podracer."

Gardulla made an inarticulate noise. "Attitude means nothing if you do not have the plasma."

The two Hutts argued over the various racers and their attributes for some time. Qui-Gon listened, but was happy enough that they seemed to have lost interest in including him in their conversation. He had a distaste for feigning opinions for the sake of being popular with these Hutt companions. They were arguing over how the number of limbs affected the ability to maneuver a pod when a delicate-looking humanoid female interrupted them to say it was time for Jabba to announce the beginning of the race. Despite her slight, small frame, she seemed quite unafraid of them, and they respectful of her.

"Come to the observation deck with us," Gardulla said cheerfully. "Our bets will be well looked after in here." She directed the last to the Rodian, who nodded obediently.

Qui-Gon stood, quietly voicing his thanks. He allowed himself one more glance toward Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was standing next to the Twi'lek still, with his eyes fixed on Qui-Gon. He wondered if Obi-Wan had been looking at him that way the entire time. Then, Qui-Gon looked toward the blaster-toting Rodian. He did not trust him.

"Would you mind," Qui-Gon said, "if I bring Anakin with us? He had been looking forward to the race."

Gardulla laughed. "Your affection for the boy causes me to wonder if you will not keep him for yourself." Qui-Gon swallowed any reaction and remained silent. "If you wish to bring him, he does not take up much space."

"Come on, Anakin." He scooped the boy up into his arms. He gave Shmi a quick nod, then followed the Hutts out to the observation deck.

---

Most of the well-to-do podracing fans had left, leaving their slaves in the conversation pit. Even when they were not being watched by their masters, not many spoke above a whisper. Obi-Wan did not like the Twi'lek, so he left her side as soon as he was able to sit on the ottoman again. Shmi sat down next to him, eying the Rodian and Twi'lek.

"You're good for doing this," she whispered to Obi-Wan. "I know the past hours must have been difficult for you."

Obi-Wan frowned. "I'm not really doing anything noble."

Shmi looked at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. "You're too modest," she said carefully.

"I guess." Obi-Wan wondered, suddenly, what lie Qui-Gon had told Shmi. He supposed it didn't really matter, since the two slaves were getting their freedom out of this, but it didn't seem right to lie to them.

"I think he's more fond of you than he lets on. He's been worried." She paused. "How long have you known each other?"

Obi-Wan chuckled quietly. "Not long at all."

"Really? It seems like you have."

Obi-Wan began to speak again, but he quieted when the Rodian and Twi'lek approached them.

"You will come with us," The Rodian said. The Twi'lek grabbed Obi-Wan's arm (_again, _and it was getting rather tiresome) and pulled him to his feet.

Obi-Wan jerked his arm free of the Twi'lek's grip. "What? Why?"

"Gardulla has an errand for us," the Rodian said.

"An errand?" Shmi asked, rising to Obi-Wan's defense. "What do you mean an errand? She left you here to watch over us, not to order us around."

"We don't need you, Shmi," the Twi'lek croaked out. It was the first time Obi-Wan had heard her voice, and it had clearly been damaged at some point. It was difficult to listen to. "You are that tall human's business today. This one is Gardulla's."

Shmi moved close to the Twi'lek, speaking barely over a whisper. "This is not the time. And this one has nothing to do with it."

The Twi'lek smiled. "This is not what you think."

"Isn't it?"

The Rodian stepped in and pushed Shmi back. "We must run Gardulla's errand. If you continue to hinder our progress, there will be dire consequences."

Shmi held the Rodian's gaze for a long moment, then looked at Obi-Wan with sympathy. "Be careful," she said.

Obi-Wan nodded, trying to make sense of the conversation he'd just witnessed. He didn't have much pause to think, however, as the Twi'lek jerked on his arm, forcing him into forward motion.

"I suppose it doesn't matter that I'd really rather not leave, does it?" Obi-Wan asked.

The Rodian sneered at him and rested his hand on the butt of his blaster.

"Guess not," Obi-Wan muttered.

The Rodian packed them back into the speeder and flew it down from the tower himself. The sound of pods roaring out of the gate dampened out everything else. The Rodian and Twi'lek were sitting close as lovers in the front of the speeder, and they would sometimes lean toward each other as if speaking. Obi-Wan wasn't very far behind them, but he couldn't hear a word.

It didn't seem right, Obi-Wan thought. In fact, it seemed very wrong. Had Gardulla decided to keep him, regardless of the outcome of the race? But why invite Qui-Gon up to the tower at all, if that were the case? Why not just try to kill Qui-Gon?

Obi-Wan felt a pang in his stomach. Even if that _were_ the case, he reminded himself, Qui-Gon could take care of himself. He was a Jedi. Obi-Wan would not be the cause of another death.

As they flew away from the track, back into the heart of Mos Espa, the sounds of the race faded. It never quite disappeared, but it wasn't so loud that Obi-Wan could barely hear his own thoughts. The Rodian set down on the side of a nearly empty street... one that Obi-Wan recognized.

Before Obi-Wan could think any further, the Rodian grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the speeder. The Twi'lek jumped out and took his other arm.

"Look, I don't have anything against either of you. If you could just tell me what we're doing--"

The Twi'lek hit him hard in the jaw. Obi-Wan jerked free of her grip, ready to fight, but he felt the cold jab of a blaster in his rib cage.

"We know who you are, spoiled human child," the Rodian said. Obi-Wan grit his teeth to keep himself from reacting. "If you don't understand now, you will learn."

The Rodian pressed the blaster harder into Obi-Wan's side, and Obi-Wan moved forward... into an alley. Obi-Wan was certain he recognized it now. It was the one Lia'rin had taken him down.

They led him back up those stairs and into that room, where people still sat along the walls waiting.

The Twi'lek knocked on the door at the back, and it slid open. They entered, all three of them, another room. This one was better lit, but the thick, musky scent had trickled into this room from the adjacent one. Two men stood on either side of a woman. Obi-Wan recognized her. She was the sallow-skinned woman who had stared at him the day before.

She smiled at him now. She didn't look nearly as sickly in her elaborate leather body armor. Now, she looked like a proper bounty hunter.

The Rodian handed her a small, metal box, and she looked it over.

"Very good, Veero." She nodded to the man on her right side. He stepped forward and, with a small metal instrument, unlocked the metal bands around the Twi'lek's and the Rodian's necks. The Twi'lek smiled for the first time since Obi-Wan had met her and rubbed at her neck.

"Thank you," the Twi'lek croaked. "Thank you, Yura."

The sallow-skinned woman waved her hand dismissively. "Go. You have little time to get off-planet before Gardulla finds you missing."

The Twi'lek nodded quickly. She smiled another big smile at the Rodian, and together, they left.

"Now, that's a happy ending," Yura said.

"What do you want with me?" Obi-Wan blurted out.

Yura laughed. "You're not the one paying me." She looked up at the man to her left. "Shackle him, if you would."

"No!" Obi-Wan broke for the door. There was no doorknob, no form of opening mechanism that he could see. The man took one of his forearms and clamped something cold and metal onto it; he easily took the other arm and did the same.

Obi-Wan struggled against the shackles instinctively, but the man put his meaty hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder to still him. There was no use in fighting. He would have to try another way if he was going to get out of this.

---

As the race progressed, Gardulla had become less and less confident. Whenever Gasgano slipped back a little further, she flailed in rage and shouted things in Huttese so obscene that it sent little Anakin into soundless giggles. Anakin was quite lucky not only that he was protected by both a Jedi and his own status as a bet, but that Jabba's laughing at Gardulla's antics distracted her away from Anakin.

The race itself held very little interest for Qui-Gon. He was certain he would win his bet. However, he did appreciate that it gave him a chance to focus his attentions entirely on Anakin. Qui-Gon could sense the Force in this boy in a way that he'd never sensed it from anyone. Not even Master Yoda gave off the aura that this tiny boy, even smaller than Yoda, emanated.

They were already forming a bond. Anakin would be ready to be his Padawan in only a few years of preliminary training. The Council would try to hold him back, but Qui-Gon would be prepared for it. He would fight them for this boy.

Gardulla flailed again, and Qui-Gon glanced in the direction of the race. They were in the last lap, and drawing to a close. Gasgano was hopelessly behind. Soon, he would lose, and Qui-Gon would take Anakin back to Coruscant to begin their lives again as Jedi. Anakin smiled at him, bright-eyed. Even though he was very young, Anakin seemed to understand exactly how much this moment meant. He would be an excellent apprentice.

A loud clatter and crash sounded from the conversation pit and jerked Qui-Gon's attention from Anakin for a moment. Like a veil over his eyes had parted, he could sense something was wrong.

"Will you excuse me, Gardulla, while I check on my winnings?"

Jabba's translator cautiously spoke Qui-Gon's words in Huttese. Gardulla flung her tail around, lashing the translator behind the knees.

"Go," she bellowed. "Before I lose my temper."

Qui-Gon gathered Anakin up into his arms again, then left the observation deck. Shmi was inside, arguing rather physically with one of the service droids. When she saw Qui-Gon approaching, a relief came over her expression and she forcefully told the droid that her master wanted her. Finally, the droid let her pass, up out of the pit.

"Veero and Hal'eri took him. They said that there was some kind of errand Gardulla wanted them to run, but... I didn't believe them in the first place, and they would be back by now." She was shaking, but Qui-Gon knew that it was not with fear, but with anger. Please do not tell me you've sacrificed that young man for us."

"I've sacrificed no one."

Shmi frowned up at him. "Haven't you? Those two along with Lia'rin have been talking about escaping for ages. If I had to guess, your attractive young man was traded for their freedom. I should never have let them take him."

A low scream sounded from the observation deck. Qui-Gon glanced back, then looked at Shmi again. "It sounds like the race is over. Here." He handed Anakin over to his mother.

Gardulla crawled her way back toward the conversation pit, bemoaning Gasgano's entire ancestral line and the various inequalities of podracing in general. Jabba was, again, openly laughing at her.

"Gardulla," Qui-Gon said in his most authoritative voice. "I am sorry for your loss, but there seems to be a bigger problem here. I am told that your slaves have stolen mine."

Jabba's translator quickly repeated Qui-Gon's words in Huttese.

"What?" Gardulla boomed. She swung her fat head back and forth. "Veero!" she shouted.

There was no answer. Gardulla turned her attention to Qui-Gon. "You," she said. "You are not happy to take two of my slaves, you take all of them, is that the case?"

"Shmi informs me that your slaves were planning an escape for some time."

"Is that so?" Gardulla began to move toward Shmi, but Qui-Gon blocked her path.

"If you'll remember, she belongs to me now. If you were to harm her, I would be within my rights to harm you in return."

Gardulla reeled back; not in fear, clearly, but shock that anyone would speak to her in that manner. "What proof to I have that you are not behind this?"

"The box," Shmi said. "The control box for the collars. Veero was planning to take it while you were sleeping. You had begun to trust him, so you weren't as careful with hiding the keys. He still didn't have access to anything that would get the collars off, but if you couldn't track him... I don't know if the plan has changed since then, but I would bet that the box is gone from your hotel room."

Gardulla swung her arm in anger. Qui-Gon had to lean back to avoid being hit.

"Regardless of the circumstances, I am very concerned about finding my-- in finding Obi-Wan. I will still need the transport you promised me, but I will need it in a week or two, when I've found him."

Jabba laughed. "Human, you expect to find that little boy now? Even if he is not off-planet by now, there are more potholes for scum to collect in than you would be able to search through. Particularly in a week."

"That is my concern," Qui-Gon said calmly. "Will you be able to provide the transportation, Gardulla, or not?"

Gardulla sneered. "You bring me back my slaves; I will give you your transport."

"Very well. I will return in a week's time to update you on the situation if, by then, I am still in need of your transport."

"I will be on this wrenched planet for nine days. Do not expect to have longer than that."

Qui-Gon half nodded, half bowed, then he turned to Shmi. "Come along," he said quietly. The three of them went to the lift. Qui-Gon had thought he would be grateful to have Gardulla out of his sight, but his mind was swimming with possibilities.

He may have finally gotten the poor boy killed.

"The other Hutt was right," Shmi said. "To find him in a week... even nine days? It's not likely. He should never have been in that position."

"I agree on your second point. But on the first: You should not underestimate a Jedi. I will find him."

Shmi held Anakin close. "I hope so."

---

Obi-Wan hadn't honestly expected anyone on the street to be concerned about a young man in shackles, a gag, and a blindfold being kidnapped, but he had held out a little hope anyway. Childish on his part, of course, and soon the sounds of Mos Espa faded out and only the hum of the airspeeder remained.

Obi-Wan tried to talk through the gag, but it came out something like wuff duff mugga wah. He felt a hand roughly pull the gag out of his mouth. He reacquainted the top of his mouth with the feel of his tongue. It was almost comforting.

"We're too far away from any form of civilization, even by Tatooine standards, so yelling won't do you any good," Yura informed him.

"That's fine." Obi-Wan readjusted his head so that his face was pointed in the general direction of her voice. "I was just asking if you knew what Mika is going to do with me."

She laughed. "Sounds like you were expecting this. You should keep better company, kid."

"You're telling me."

"I didn't ask." She paused. "What he was going to do with you, that is."

"How much are you being paid for me?" Obi-Wan asked.

Yura was quiet for a moment, then she laughed again. "I'm getting a ship. It's a career move, really."

"Mika was the first real friend I had," Obi-Wan said.

"Are you trying to do the pity thing? You're out of luck, kid, I don't have it?"

Obi-Wan smiled. "Not really. I'm just talking to talk. I wasn't allowed to talk much when Gardulla had me, and it'd be a shame if I'm going to die without being able to talk. I've been told I have a nice voice."

"You think he's going to kill you, then?"

Obi-Wan shrugged.

"What did you do, then?" she asked.

"Unwittingly betrayed him. Then, shot him in the shoulder for killing my family."

"There's your mistake," she said. "You left him alive."

Obi-Wan listened to the humming of the airspeeder. They must have been fairly high above ground, because there wasn't much sand in the wind. "Do I really need this blindfold?"

She reached back and pulled the blindfold down as well. "Don't expect me to take off the shackles."

Obi-Wan laughed. "I wouldn't presume. You know. It's too bad. I inherited a lot of money from my father's business. I was going to use it to start over again. It would have been interesting to see what I could do with myself on my own."

"Yep, too bad," she said with disinterest. A touch too much disinterest -- Obi-Wan had her attention.

"I'd give up just about all of it to get out of this. Having the means to start over is one thing, you know, but living is--"

"Look, kid, I respect you for trying." Yura narrowed her eyes against the horizon. "But you know first hand what happens to people who go against Mika."

"He wouldn't _have_ to know. You could still get your ship and everything."

She chewed at her lip thoughtfully, then began to nod. "Keep going."

"Deliver me to Mika. He'll take his time with me. If he didn't want to take his time, he would have sent an assassin, not a bounty hunter. Get your ship and all. Then, go back to Mos Espa and find someone named Qui-Gon. Real tall Human-ish guy -- at least six-foot-three or four. Long browny-gray hair. _Huge_ nose. He's staying at this derg-hole hotel, the _Beesga_. You tell him where I am. Just tell him to pay a bit more than what's fair for saving my life, and he'll do it. That's it. No losses for you."

"You're all right, kid," she said, with a huge smile. "You sure you're not a professional criminal?"

"Just friends with them, apparently," Obi-Wan said.

"Well, I might have to take you up on that deal. You'd better hope this Qui-Gon is the dependable sort."

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and fixed his eyes forward. "Yeah. I do."


	7. The Counterblow

**Chapter 7 - The Counterblow**

Qui-Gon sat in the booth, hunched over and staring intently at the man across from him. His patience and his calm were both wearing thin.

It was Tatooine; the amorality of the place was infecting him like a disease. Of course, Jedi were trained for these situations. Their sensitivity made them vulnerable, so they _had_ to be prepared. But in the end, the only real tool of a Jedi in such a situation was meditation. Meditation gave Qui-Gon's mind enough rest to remind him that he was himself, not a criminal, nor a capitalist, nor a cold-blooded murderer -- though outsiders might accuse him of the last.

He hadn't had time for meditation since Obi-Wan had disappeared, and his hands ached for his lightsaber.

"I understand your situation." Qui-Gon spoke very slowly, very firmly. "But I only want to know where Mika is, or who could tell me. Even if I were to know your name, sir, it would not come up."

The twitchy little Human licked beads of perspiration off of his upper lip. "What you're offering isn't worth that, okay? If you understand my situation, you'd understand that M... that the man is not someone you should be messing with."

The man began to slip out of the booth, but Qui-Gon grabbed his forearm. "This is very important to me."

"Look, maybe I don't understand your situation like you understand mine, but it's not worth it. No one's going to give you that information, guy. You'd got to be crazy to mess with him. I mean, he's got _bigger people_ on his side. Scarier than him, that's for sure. And on top of that he's got guys littler than him willing to kill for him. Let me go or this is going to get ugly."

Qui-Gon held on to the man's arm for a long moment before pulling his hand back. He glanced at the man as he left, then down at the table in front of him.

A full day had passed since Obi-Wan had disappeared. A full day. Now, every hour that passed exponentially increased the likelihood that Obi-Wan would not come out of this unharmed. Qui-Gon doubted, or hoped, that Mika would not kill Obi-Wan immediately, but Qui-Gon knew that death was not the only danger Obi-Wan would face.

Qui-Gon had failed Obi-Wan, and his inability to set things right only added to his failure. If Qui-Gon did not find Obi-Wan soon, he had a strong feeling he may have finally, completely ruined the boy's life -- that there might not be anything to salvage and take to Naboo.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by two yellow-skinned hands, pressed against the table top within his range of vision. He looked up. A woman dressed in tight-fitting leather stood over him. Qui-Gon was uncertain whether she was a bounty hunter or a particularly unattractive prostitute, though he suspected the latter. He grimaced.

"Do you have business with me?" Qui-Gon asked.

She tilted her head and squinted at him. "Well, I don't think your nose is _that_ huge."

He raised an eyebrow." Excuse me?"

"You're better looking than I expected you to be," she explained as she sat in the booth seat across from him. "Your little friend is good-looking too, but you look a bit better equipped for this place than he does, that's the truth. Bet those hands could snap a neck in two. Not like your little friend. Tiny little girl's hands, at _his_ age. Doesn't look like he's done a spot of work, does he?" She smiled, baring her straight white teeth. "The conversation we're having? Don't confuse it with small talk. It's to prove to you that I've got something you want. Not Obi-Wan in the flesh, as it were, but I do have... pertinent information.

So she was a bounty hunter after all. Qui-Gon drew himself in for a moment, to avoid aggression, then looked at her directly. "Then, you will tell me."

She laughed and held up a hand. "Not so fast, mister. You know, you've got some set of durasteel balls to run around asking for information on Mika where anyone might hear. Guess that kid was right to trust you. I had my doubts, personally, that anyone would go to the trouble to help him out. I mean, he's really in some kind of bind, isn't he?"

The bounty hunters verbosity was beginning to eat away at Qui-Gon's calm exterior. He spoke in a low, controlled voice. "Without my involvement, Obi-Wan would not be in danger. I think you will find me willing to go to any length to get him back out of it."

"The repentant hero. That's my favorite fairytale." She cracked her knuckles. "Obi-Wan tells me that he has quite the stash of valuable possessions. Enough to start over with. He says he'd rather be alive and start over poor than dead, which seems reasonable enough to me."

"Tell me where he is, and--"

"No," she interrupted. "No, that's not how it works. How it works is: I have the upper hand, so I make the rules."

Qui-Gon sat back and crossed his arms. He must not allow anything to get in the way of dealing with this woman, especially emotion. Greed was to be expected. Qui-Gon would find a way to pay Obi-Wan back. Surely the Council would not deny him that. "Very well," he said, finally.

"It's nice to see that you're a reasonable sort, Qui-Gon. Here's how it goes: You help me pack all of the nice things Obi-Wan owns into my ship. Once I'm in the air..." She slid a small comm link across the table to Qui-Gon. "I'll tell you where he is."

Qui-Gon glanced down at the comm link, then back up to her.

She held up her hand. "Now, before you say anything, I know that this situation doesn't give you any assurances, and I could very well simply fly off with all of Obi-Wan's things. But you're the repentant hero, Qui-Gon. And this is the only path to repentance. I think you know that no one else will help you, so you may as well take the chance. Unless you'd rather take the boy's things and buy _yourself_ a place to start over. Which I wouldn't blame you for. I mean, he's a cute kid, but that kind of money could buy you stacks of cuter kids."

Qui-Gon drew a breath to steady himself. "Where shall I meet you?"

"Outside of Mos Espa, some feet northeast of your hotel at dusk. You'll bring the payment. I'll make sure it's actually worth the risk. Then, we'll have a deal."

"I want you to know," Qui-Gon said very slowly. "That I am a dangerous man to those who waste my time and risk the life of someone I care for."

She shrugged and stood up. "Then, you should avoid getting those you care for in mortal peril, eh? I'll see you."

Qui-Gon grit his teeth, but he allowed her to leave unhindered. He waited until the door had closed behind her before he rose and, with a deft movement, drew the hood of his robe over his head. He moved swiftly through the tavern, side-stepping several drunkards and waitresses as he did so, and found his way out to the open air.

The Tatooine suns hung heavy over the horizon. Dusk was coming soon. He would have to hurry.

* * *

Obi-Wan awoke to white. He blinked a few times to try to regain his vision only to find that the white was real. White walls, white ceiling, white bed. 

He closed his eyes and frowned at his headache. Was it a hangover? No... No, he was on Tatooine, not Coruscant. He hadn't had anything to drink for a day or two. Slowly, the memories came back to him. Yura had landed on a pad and a man had come out. The man took Obi-Wan and put something that smelled strange over his nose and mouth. Then, Obi-Wan's memories ended. It must have knocked him out.

He felt clean. Cleaner than he had since arriving on Tatooine. Obi-Wan realized with a twist of his stomach that they must have washed him. The imagery of that man stripping him naked and touching him in any way was not a pleasant one. He opened his eyes again and looked down at himself. It didn't feel like he was wearing anything, but he found that he did have white pants on, made of some airy, but thankfully opaque, material.

Carefully, he rolled onto his side. The floor was also white, but it was carpet, so there were some grays in the shadowed texture. Obi-Wan felt strangely appreciative of the variations in shade. Along the bottom of the wall, there was also some variation: small holes. He imagined they were some sort of vent, since the air was fresh despite a lack of any windows or doors that he could see.

He tried to sit up, but he couldn't move. His limbs and head felt leaden. So, instead, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep again. Maybe he did, because the next thing he was aware of was a weight on the bed next to him. He opened his eyes to find his nose inches away from Mika's hip.

Obi-Wan tried to push himself away, but he still couldn't move himself very far. He only succeeded in rolling onto his back again. Mika smiled down at him.

"You fought off that drug admirably, Obi-Wan. Most people don't wake up at all for three full day."

"Three days?" It was as difficult to speak as it was to move. His throat was inhumanly dry.

"Yes." Mika brushed Obi-Wan's hair off of his forehead the way Obi-Wan's mother had so many mornings. "It's only been one day since you arrived. I hope that you'll note that I'm treating you far better than you treated me the last time we met. I had you bathed and everything." He tapped Obi-Wan's chest with his finger. "You are getting a tan from this Tatooine sun. It suits you."

Obi-Wan tried to manage an angry look, but suspected he'd only managed to look pitiful. "What d'you want with me?" he slurred.

"Just when I think you're smarter than I suspected... You never fail to disappoint, Obi-Wan," Mika said with a sigh.

"I'm not gon'to let you kill me."

Mika laughed. "I've no intention of killing you, dear friend. In fact the agreement with my partner is that I will hand you over alive when I am finished." Then, Mika sighed and leaned down, tilting his head to look at Obi-Wan. "You really don't understand me, do you? After all this time. It's really a bit sad when you think about it."

"It's been years," Obi-Wan said, the words slowly starting to come more easily. "It's been years since we were friends."

"Mm, you're right of course." There was something sad to Mika's voice. "But what did you expect? You haven't shown any promise in ages. The only promise you've shown since you passed through puberty was when you shot me, and you didn't even have the intestinal fortitude to kill me."

"If you gave me another go at it, I'd promise to do better," Obi-Wan hissed.

Mika laughed again, a quiet breathy sound. "I'm afraid that's not how it works. But there are chances I could give you. If I wanted to." He had his clear blue eyes fixed on Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan did his best to match his gaze steadily. "If you gave me a reason."

"You ruined my life, Mika."

"I haven't begun to ruin your life, Obi-Wan." Mika stood up. "As I said, you never fail to disappoint. I'll be back when you're feeling better. You're absolutely no use to me in this state."

He walked away, out of Obi-Wan's view. Obi-Wan could hear a door slide open and shut. Then, there was silence. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think. Qui-Gon would come to him soon. Qui-Gon would save him.

* * *

When Obi-Wan came to Coruscant, Mika was his first friend. For a long time, they were inseparable. They spent nearly all their time after school at Mika's father's club, either out with the crowd or in one of the empty reservation rooms. 

Obi-Wan had his first sexual experience in one of those rooms -- the peacock room, they called it, because of the iridescent black and violet table and ugly green tile floor. They were sitting next to each other in one of the booths of the empty room talking about a sports team--and how they never managed to win--when Mika leaned over and pressed his lips against Obi-Wan's. Obi-Wan had, of course, kissed before that, but he'd never thought to kiss a boy.

He'd pulled away from Mika after a moment and asked, "What're you doing?"

"I had this idea," Mika said, with wide, darkened eyes.

Obi-Wan frowned. "What idea?"

Mika chewed on his lip thoughtfully for a moment. Obi-Wan thought his lips looked kind of nice, kind of red, and that his cheeks were flushed the same color. "Well, you know, girls are a hassle. We could, you know, figure stuff out. On each other."

"More than kissing?" Obi-Wan asked, and immediately felt like an idiot for asking.

Mika smiled crookedly. Uncertainly. It was the kind of smile that Mika wore back then.

Laying in that white room, Obi-Wan felt more than a little sick at that memory. He doesn't remember why he liked Mika so much when he was a kid. He doesn't remember ever finding him particularly attractive. It was just that Mika was the only friend Obi-Wan had who touched him that way and didn't expect anything else. When he discovered that other people were perfectly willing to do that and more without attachments, he and Mika had just stopped. Not just stopped touching, but stopped everything. They'd stopped talking much more than a few words at a time. Even when Obi-Wan went to Mika's father's club to see him, Mika spent his time with a different crowd, a slicker crowd, and he rarely spent more than a few minutes at a time in Obi-Wan's company.

If Obi-Wan had been able to see into the future, he would have never connected the boy who was his friend to the man who had locked him in that white room with that tight, sadistic smile.

When he'd woken up after Mika's last visit, he'd found strange metal bands around his wrists. Obi-Wan picked at them, confused, trying to discern a purpose for them. Perhaps they were like the metal band of Gardulla's that was still around his neck.

"Good, you're awake. I've been looking forward to this."

Mika was there. When had he come in? Obi-Wan's heart was pounding so hard and fast that he couldn't think. Mindlessly, Obi-Wan tried to get to his feet and confront him. Mika calmly pressed the button of a little remote control in his hand, and the bands jerked Obi-Wan back. He hit the bed hard, painfully, and his arms were wrenched back. He tried to pull them to the front again, but the metal bands were locked together by some unseen energy.

He managed to jerk himself up into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. As Mika rounded the bed to stand in front of him, Obi-Wan sat as straightly as he could, and looked Mika directly in the eye. He would not show fear.

"So," Obi-Wan said. "What do you want with me now?"

"Don't be impatient, Obi-Wan. It's not an attractive trait."

"Attractive?" Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes, willing his expression to stay defiant. "So this is going to be a rape-slash-torture thing, right? Just get started so we can get it over with."

Mika laughed and looked away. "Well, in all fairness, it was your _turn_ to underestimate me. Of course, you'll end up with worse than a burn in your shoulder." Mika unzipped his shirt halfway and pulled the fabric aside to show the spot of ruined flesh. "My doctor told me I was crazy to allow it to scar, but I wanted the reminder. No matter how stupid someone appears, I won't let my guard down in the future."

"You say that as if I betrayed you. You know I had no idea about your... business or whatever you want to call it, and you killed my family. You lost your father recently, you should under--"

"Oh, stop that!" Mika said loudly. Then, he tilted back his head to look up at the ceiling. "Not that. Not that again. You act as if I did some kind of injustice to you. You always complained that you hated them. You hated their expectations. They were holding you back. I did you a favor. And, for the record?" Mika rolled his head back up to look at Obi-Wan. "Using my father's death against me? Not classy. I would be offended if I hadn't poisoned him myself. See, he was holding me back too. I'm never having children. I'm never going to be anyone's burden."

Obi-Wan stared at Mika for a long time, unable to speak. Mika said nothing more in the silence. He simply stared back at Obi-Wan, biting his lip. He looked amused.

"What happened to you?" Obi-Wan finally managed to whisper. "You weren't like this."

"I met someone who opened up my eyes, and I grew up."

"I wish you hadn't."

Mika rubbed his temple with one hand, while the other hand dipped into his pocket and extracted a small black instrument. "Look, I'm very sorry it ended up this way, honest. But this isn't something you can charm your way out of or talk your way out of or suck your way out of." He let out a long breath and pressed a button on the side of the black instrument. A narrow pin slid out. It was about five inches long once it had reached it's full length.

Obi-Wan leaned away despite himself. Despite knowing there was no way out of this. He would just have to withstand it and hope that Qui-Gon came soon.

"Most people would have a droid do this, probably." Mika inspected the instrument as if it were the first time he had seen it. "Droids are more exact, more precise. I prefer the tactile experience myself. This little weapon can be fatal when inserted into the heart or the brain or other particularly vital organs, so I'll have to avoid those. However, when inserted into a non-vital part of your anatomy it simply enflames your nerve endings. I've only used it once. I like to save it for special occasions."

"So, I'm special?" Obi-Wan said, strangely satisfied that his voice had only trembled slightly.

Mika smiled and shook his head. "Obi-Wan, I do wish it had worked out differently. You could have amused me if nothing else." Mika put one hand on Obi-Wan's jaw and held it to steady him. Obi-Wan didn't move. If he didn't show too much, maybe Mika would bore of this sooner. Maybe.

"You have no idea how much I wish it would have worked out differently," Mika repeated, almost gently, as he slid the needle into Obi-Wan's neck.

* * *

Obi-Wan focused on the breathing Qui-Gon had taught him. 

One, two, three, four.

He wished Qui-Gon had taught him more. He wished Qui-Gon had finished that lesson on meditation. Obi-Wan was sure that if he knew a little more, he could distance himself from physicality completely, but his breath would jerk out of rhythm and consciousness would drag him back.

One, two, three, four. Four in, four out.

Obi-Wan woke up.

He didn't remember it ending, and he didn't remember Mika leaving. He must have passed out at some point. For the most part, there was no pain left over -- just a little soreness in the places where the needle had gone in. His neck, his side, his thigh... a few other places. It felt more like stiff muscles than the after effects of torture.

Mika had said something about keeping him in good condition for someone, hadn't he? Someone was after him other than Mika? Obi-Wan tried to rack his brain for an answer, but he was exhausted.

He pushed himself up to a sitting position. For a moment, he thought he might throw up, but he sat very still until the feeling passed. He tested his neck and his side for their reactions to movement. The pain wasn't bad. A little sharp if he pushed it too far.

He realized he was naked, and he looked around for the pants he'd been wearing before. No luck. He crawled off the side of the bed onto the floor and wrapped the sheet around his waist.

The holes on the side of the wall were too small for him to fit two fingers in; they would be no help in his escape. It was a good design, instead of the typical large vents, to have several small ones. He squinted at the wall to his left. That would have to be where Mika came in. From the bed, Obi-Wan could see all three of the other walls, and he'd never seen Mika enter.

Obi-Wan stood slowly, carefully, pulling the sheet along with him. His thigh ached, but it wasn't bad enough that he couldn't walk. He went to the wall, and pressed his firmly against it. There was no sign of an opening. Obi-Wan wondered if it was some sort of force field or illusion. He leaned his weight against the wall. It seemed solid.

A surge of electricity jumped down his arm. He jerked away helplessly. From somewhere, an electronic voice boomed: "Don't touch walls."

"Well, _fuck you_ too!" Obi-Wan yelled at no one.

"Now, that's not nice."

Obi-Wan spun around. Mika was behind him. How had he gotten there?

"Get away from me," Obi-Wan growled, taking a few steps back.

Mika shook his head. "Obi-Wan, you know part of what I can do with those bands on your wrist already. I was hoping that I wouldn't have to resort to binding your hands back again." Mika reached into his pocket.

"Don't." Obi-Wan held up a hand to stop him. "I'll... be good."

Mika smiled. "That's better." His smile faded and he furrowed his eyebrows. He took a few graceful steps toward Obi-Wan until they were standing close, and he touched the red sore on Obi-Wan's neck. "I must have been a bit over enthusiastic yesterday. I hadn't meant to leave such a bad mark."

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw and did not back away. "It's not bad."

"Mm, my brute of a friend. You always had a high pain tolerance." Mika dropped his hand back to his side. "I'm afraid I've come here to tell you that we've captured your Jedi friend."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened. "What?"

"Yes. You _did_ arrange for him to save you like the typical damsel in distress, right?"

"I--" Obi-Wan swallowed hard and looked down. "Tell him I'm dead. Let him go. He won't be a problem if he thinks--"

Mika laughed. "I'm afraid that's not how it works. I'd rather not have a Jedi with a grudge against me, thank you all the same. Though, I doubt that he'd be able to understand it if I told him, considering the state he's in."

Obi-Wan's head snapped up. "What did you do to him?"

"Don't worry, Obi-Wan. His suffering won't last much longer."

Obi-Wan lurched for Mika. He couldn't think about anything but squeezing his hands around Mika's neck. Mika lunged out of Obi-Wan's reach just long enough to get to the remote in his pocket. The metal bands around Obi-Wan's wrists clanged together, then jerked him upward. Soon, Obi-Wan was dangling from the ceiling. He kicked his feet, trying to relieve the strain on his arms, but there was no use.

Mika snarled. "And I thought you said you were going to be friendly. Too bad." He reached up and pulled the sheet from Obi-Wan's waist and let it fall to the floor. He pulled out the black device again, and unsheathed the needle inside of it.

For a long moment, Mika simply held the device and watched Obi-Wan. The pain in Obi-Wan's wrists and forearms was unbearable, but he wouldn't ask to be let down. He wouldn't do anything but fight Mika until the end. He'd rather be dead than be Mika's toy.

Slowly, Mika circled Obi-Wan, stopping out of Obi-Wan's range of sight. He felt Mika's cold finger press just below his tailbone. "This is close enough to the spinal cord that you should feel it throughout your body. But, don't worry. It's far enough away that you won't be permanently damaged, I think. I've never actually tried it before, but there is a first time for everything."

It was hard to breath with his body stretched like that. It was hard to try to do what Qui-Gon had taught him without thinking of Qui-Gon dead. Obi-Wan could only squeeze his eyes shut, and hope that when the pain came, he wouldn't scream.

He didn't want to give Mika that satisfaction.

* * *

Mika left Obi-Wan unconscious in the white bed. Mika's business partner stood in the observation room with his arms crossed over his chest. 

"I would prefer that you refrain from going that far in the future. He would be much less useful to me as a paraplegic."

"Sorry," Mika said with a forced grin. He did not like working with this man -- something about him unnerved Mika -- but they wouldn't have found Obi-Wan without each other's help. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. "It looks like you were right about Qui-Gon."

"Of course I was right about Qui-Gon," he said slowly. "I trained him."

"You know I don't know how this Jedi stuff works, Dooku." Mika looked up at him sideways. Dooku kept his eyes straight forward, watching Obi-Wan sleep.

"You may keep him until Qui-Gon comes to mount his rescue. I will take care of Qui-Gon, then you will hand the boy over to me. Is that clear?"

"Absolutely."

"Very well." Dooku drew a long breath, then finally turned to look down at Mika. His brow shadowed his eyes so that they looked hollow. "You will let him rest until he is well enough to withstand more. I think you understand the consequences if you permanently harm him."

Mika snickered. "Right. I never wanted to kill him, Jedi." His lips curled into a smile. "He is my _friend_ after all."

Dooku grimaced down at him. Mika hated the way the Jedi -- if that was what he was still -- looked at him. It was as if he were unimportant. He was as arrogant as any Jedi Mika had ever come across, and it irritated him.

"So, are you going to stay in the observation room to find Qui-Gon."

Dooku turned his attention back to Obi-Wan. "I will act when it is time."

"Whatever you say," Mika said. "If you'll excuse me..."

Mika turned and headed for the door. He nodded toward the bulky guard who stood in the corner of the room. Mika would not leave Dooku alone with Obi-Wan. Not before Mika was finished with him.

...


End file.
